Laughter in the Air
by KellerOfTrebond
Summary: Ryanna, senior at one of Gotham's private shools, is kidnapped by The Joker. What will happen she when realizes she has a fatal attraction toward the killer? Will she run with the Rogue Gallery and capture Batman, or push away the Joker with everything she's got? Joker/OC/Possible Batman [rated M for a good reason, future smut and violence planned]
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I don't own any characters recognizable from the DC Universe. **

Ryanna Swift rolled her hips in the plastic chair, connected to the wooden desk in front of her at an uncomfortable angle. She felt _so_ uncomfortable for a reason she couldn't quite place. Twisting in her chair, she looked up at the clock, which sent uneasy ticks and restless tocks bouncing off the walls. Something was off, something was-her name burst into her thoughts.

"Ms. Swift!" Ryanna turned quickly, eyes locking with the short woman in front of her. She had to stop from letting out small giggles. She was so short, with beady eyes that looked like they were transplanted from a raccoon. Miss Havish stood in front of my desk with her ruler, which was comically painted the same color as her obnoxiously bright blonde hair, tapping her nails against it with a mix between frustration and barely contained anger, "This is the third time I've caught you distracted. Hallway!" She pointed, with her chalkboard-screeching nails, to the door into the hallway of Anadelm High School.

"But-" Ryanna tried, knowing putting in any effort was futile.

"No buts! Out!"

Somebody snickered, and she shot a glare into the general direction. She didn't really have a doubt as to who it was, the same group of jocks that liked to laugh at her. Pushing her head up high, she began the trek to the door, eyes on her.

And then Ryanna knew, that something was very, very wrong.

Eyes. Dark eyes that were tilted up in laughter were watching her through the door. She took a hesitant step back, unsure. Was it a prank? Some dumb kid laughing at her?

"I said out!" Miss Havish's voice made her flinch, until her eyes wondered to the door that had caught Ryanna's attention. Miss H let out a squeak, and sprinted across the classroom in loafers that knicked and knacked with panic. Just as her hand was on the door, just when she was about to slip the key into her lock, a gunshots bang-though muffled-resonated throughout the room. Screams from just about every female, and a few from the boys too, resonated from the four corners of the history classroom. Blood sprayed across Ryanna's face, and for one horrible moment, she felt like she was the one dead.

But that couldn't be, no, it was Miss Havish. Her head was barely recognizable, bits of pink fluff and skull on her desk, and on Ryanna herself. The window in the door was broken. And after the screams died down, laughter could be heard.

Laughter than made Ryanna's toes curl, her breath hitch, and chills rush up her spine. Some body in the back of the classroom began to throw up whatever lunch he had just ate not half an hour ago. Ryanna didn't care one damn about anything else in the world as that door opened, but who walked out from behind it.

"Well, well. Why do you all look so _down_? You can't actually be liking this stuff! You should be happy I saved you from it." The Joker stood confidently, waving the gun about like it was some kind of toy, not a deadly weapon. He nudged the dead body at his feet with a snicker, and glanced up at Ryanna, who was very aware of the fact that he could probably reach out and grab her by the throat if he wanted. She wasn't expecting it when he reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. And at his touch, so gentle that she could barely believe it, she let out a sob. She did her best to stop tears from rolling, but how could she? It was terrifying.

"Aren't you a sweet little thing?" He asked nobody in particular, but kept her in his eyes. She was pretty, she just wasn't used to people noticing it. At first sight she looked so horribly plain. She had brown hair, a color that seemed like some kid had gotten into paints and mixed together an awful lot of red, yellow, and brown to produce something that looked a different color every time she turned. Her eyes, bright blue, looked like they were frozen over with some kind of internal sun that never seemed to die. Freckles brushed across her cheeks, just barely noticeable. She was short, barely five foot two, but the way she held herself made her seem taller than anybody else in the room.

The kid in the back of the room finally finished up retching up whatever was in his stomach, he turned to the Joker, paler than the pieces of paper on his desk. The Joker cupped Ryanna's cheek gently, then flicked her nose with a laugh. He took a step, making a grand show of stepping over the body in front of him.

"Okay, whose dad is…" He trailed off, pushing his sleeve up to examine something scribbled across his arm in purple ink,"Ry-an Swift." He exaggerated on the name. Her _fathers_ name. He stepped in front of her, scanning the classroom, waiting for somebody to raise their hand, or call out, or _something_, because he was not a very patient man. He fired two shots into the ceiling, cackling as he did, and then turning deadly serious, banging a hand on the desk in front of him-her desk.

"M…" She tried, swallowing the lump in her throat, "Mine. He's my father." Her voice sounded a lot steadier than she felt, her face a lot calmer than her mind. The Joker turned, and raised his hands up in praise, grinning.

"At least you're pretty!" He chuckled, taking the short two steps to her, so close she could feel the heat radiating off of her, "Come ere', dollface." He weaved his fingers into her hair, gripping her close enough to the scalp so that she wasn't dying of pain. Well… yet anyways. He began walking behind her, gun to the small of her back, arm stretched forward so that he was pushing her head, "Walk, sweetcheeks. We got places to be, people to see, games to play." He chortled quietly to himself, humming a small tune as he pushed her forward, all the way out of the haven of her school, all the way the back of her schools horribly designed parking lot, and into the back of a white van where two men with scruffy appearances blind folded her and tied her wrists behind her.

Ryanna was forced to sit down, and she had to force herself to ignore the breathing of the two men beside her. It was difficult to ignore her being in a car, considering she was flying all over the place, but it gave her the wonderful opportunity to elbow the men once or twice.

Their grumbles of dissatisfaction sated her desire for some kind of retaliation for the moment, and she let herself relax, preparing for what was to come in the future, which she already expected to be horrible gruesome and terribly painful.

ment here...


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: As you've probably figured out by now, I have relatively short chapters. I post when I get the inspiration, but I have a feeling reviews make chapters come a lot sooner. Please give me some suggestions, whether it be ideas or requests, because those are always great. Sorry if The Joker is OOC, it's just so hard to write him! Enjoy!**

After what felt like hours, but was probably just the short drive to the other side of town, Ryanna felt in a dreaded state of panic. Her state of calm, her adrenaline, all seemed to have disappeared. Her tongue felt dry, her hands shook steadily behind her back. She was going to die. She knew this almost as well as she could recite the seven deadly sins. If she hadn't been under a state of constant dread, she might have rolled her eyes.

Though Ryanna went to a Christian school, she was quietly atheist, but that didn't mean she didn't have prayers drilled into her since she was 14. The evidence she went to a religious school was abundantly clear by just the clothes on her person. Forced to wear school uniforms, _God_ knows she hates them, that were the ugliest color of dark green and light blue. In the typical plaid skirt (usually down to her knees, but she always hiked it up to mid-thigh like every other girl in the school), with the ugliest vests over a long sleeved white shirt. The vest had a very bright, ghastly blue cross right in the middle of it.

But it wasn't just the clothes she hated about Anadelm High School, no. It was the self-tilted pricks who seemed to enjoy everything from calling her names to hitting her in the back of the head with bibles. And it wasn't just the boys either, it was the idiotic girls with their perfectly curled blonde locks, who sing-songed taunts and teases to her.

Or maybe it was because, though her family had never had much money, her father worked through blood and sweat to get her in. She was smart, and her dad wanted her to go somewhere better than Gotham High, which was constantly under the terror of criminals and laced with druggies and future 16-And-Pregnant stars.

Ryanna's fists tightened as she heard the back doors of the van open. Her breath quickened, and still blindfolded, she pushed her way up across the car floor with her legs. The Joker's laugh sounded, and vaguely-through her panic-she heard instructions to drag her out. When she felt a hand on her ankle, she screamed and kicked out, connecting solidly with somebody's jaw.

Stunned she'd hit anything at all, she didn't noticed the other hand on her ankle until she was dragged out of the van, and thrown onto the ground.

Ryanna tried to get up and run, only to be tripped and hit her head on the floor. Laughter was still cackling in and out of her ears, but she was more focused on the ringing sound buzzing through her ears. Somebody stepped on her hand, to which she let out a pained gasp.

"If you'd-ah-stop fighting, it wouldn't _hurt_ so much!" The Joker's voice sounded in her ear, so close she had to flinch away from it. She didn't do anything, but just try to control her ragged breath. He patted her head, laughing, "Good girl!"

She didn't fight when somebody threw her over their shoulders like she was a rag doll, her bottom sticking up in the air.

She didn't fight when somebody carried her through doors, and she listened to steps from some kind of boots sound on a tiled hallway.

She didn't fight when she was tied to an office chair, legs thankfully closed, arms on the foam plastic cover.

She didn't fight, she just put on a show for The Joker to make him think she had given up.

But she was strong, and she never would. Never would give in to any scoundrel, to any scum, who graced her way. They could beat her, rape her, break all of her bones, but she would never let anybody do it willingly. Right now, sitting her, she promised herself that.

So when she her footsteps leave the room, and doors slam shut, and somebody removed her blindfold, she looked up with a gaze that said she was ready to kill, only to be met with the eyes of her father.

He was bloody, so bloody. He looked so broken, and old, and like he was dead if she couldn't see the steady rise and fall of his chest, or the way he looked at her with what must have been guilt.

"My baby girl…" He moaned out, tears slipping down his cheeks, leaving clean trails where there was once dirt, "I'm so sorry. I didn't want him to do this. I tried."

Her calm, her courage, was suddenly lost again, and tears welled up in her eyes. Her voice cracked when she said, "Daddy?"

And then there was the dagger at her neck.

"Don't do it! Don't! Please, I'll give you anything you want. Don't hurt her!" Her father tried desperately, and the Joker just laughed her ear, and she could feel his hot breath run down her neck, raising involuntary goose bumps along her flesh.

"Family reunions! I always hated mine too." The Joker chortled, running his blade along Ryanna's neck, making her shiver and press back into the Joker, anything to get away from the weapon which now slid to her collarbone.

"You aren't family." She spoke quietly, tears still in her eyes, and flinched when the Joker laughed once more, his joy making him pull the knife from her neck.

"You know," The Joker continued, as if he hadn't laughed at her interruption, "_Daddy_ here has made it through some pretty creative forms of torture. A few of which I worked.. mmm.. HARD on." He stepped in between them, his eyes alight with laughter one moment, and deadly the next, "And once you get put in danger, he's willing to answer any questions I want. I don't like that." The Joker growled out, then half jumped-half skipped to her father to push the knife into the bottom of his eye socket hard enough to indent the grimy skin there.

"Just let her go." Her father begged, tears streaming down his face, my eyes watching the Joker's, The Joker's watching my father, and my father watching mine, "I'll give you all the information you want, all of it."

What information could her father possibly have? She worked at the prison, there could be next to nothing… unless… He couldn't be planning to release all the inmates could her? Wasn't that terribly uncreative compared to the events that he's caused since his escape from Arkham a year ago?

"Dad! Don't tell him that! Don't tell him a damned thing!" Ryanna yelled to him, leaning forward in the chair to express my urgency, the fact that this could kill people, raise crimes.

The Joker turned on me almost as soon as she spoke, confusion flashing in his eyes for a split moment, before he comprehended that she had already caught onto his plan.

"Aren't you a clever one? Hm?" He took the step and a half back to where she was sitting against her will, "Figured out my plan and everything, huh? Guess my surprise is ru-ined." His last statement is seething with anger, and her legs quiver at the tone of voice, "_Daddy_," He feigned her voice, "Won't be needing to share any more information with me at the moment. I've decided to keep you. My men will be so happy to have a new… _plaything_." He laughed, and her father screamed in anger, and in the midst of the panic, Ryanna's senses blackened, and she passed out.

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	3. Chapter 3

**AN: I'm so happy, I'm already getting story favorites and follows. This is only my second story, the first which I'm actually planning to finish. I hope you enjoy this chapter. REVIEW! **

When Ryanna woke up, before she even opened her eyes, she half expected that she'd be tied to some kind of bed with no clothes, freezing cold. So when she finally did open her eyes, and sat up, she was shocked to find herself on a twin bed, complete with blankets and all. She let out a little burst of giggles at the comforter design, they were covered in Joker cards and Batman symbols.

Running her fingers along the fuzz of the blanket, she looked around the room, which was almost completely empty except for a few blood stains on the carpet, and a hook at the end of a chain hanging from the ceiling. Shivers ran up her spine with icy fingers, as she quickly remembered her time here. There were windows covering one wall, and was met with a brick wall when she looked out of it. Escape wouldn't happen from the windows anyways, she was two stories up, and concrete was at the bottom. Moving the blankets off of her, she wrinkled at the metallic smell drifting up from her clothes, and tried not to look at the blood on her vest.

Sliding her feet along the carpet, she noted her black flats were neatly set up next to the bed. Blinking in confusion at the hospitality of her psychopathic host, she rushed to the door, only to be met with a missing doorknob, and the hole filled in with hot glue. Absently, she plucked at a piece of it, rolling a bit between her fingers. How was she to get out of here? How long did she have to live? Was the Joker serious about being a 'plaything'?

Was her dad alive?

Suddenly, though she'd never been very religious, she got to her knees in front of the bed and began muttering prayers. She had no other way to comfort herself, no other way to take away the mind-numbing pain she felt at the possible loss of her father.

And that's how The Joker walked in on her, on her knees, praying and crying. He let out a cackle at the sight, holding his chest like it would stop the laughter.

"This is _precious_!" He exclaimed, propping the door open with a stopper she hadn't noticed.

Ryanna gripped the sheets as if she were dying, anger making the hair on her arms stand on attention, her stomach fly all over the place.

"God help my father, Lord save him from any terrible fate." She continued, forcing herself to keep her eyes shut. The Joker took a few steps toward her, though she didn't hear the steps, just the laughter closing in.

Suddenly, as she continued her prayers, the Joker's laughter died down slowly. Ryanna's voice didn't, she kept her voice steady and strong.

"What's your name?" He asked her, with a voice that sounded like he was plotting something.

"May any who hurt him face the wrath of the Dev-" Her voice was cut off when he shoved her head into the mattress, cutting off her air supply. She hadn't even realized he was so close.

And with disgust, she felt butterflies lift in her stomach at his small touch. His violent touch. She stomped on the butterflies as quickly as they'd come.

"ANSWER ME." His voice seethed venom into her ear, his crotch pushed against her upper back. Finally he let go on her head, and she gulped air thankfully, and with a cough told him her name.

"Ryanna."

"Rye-Anna. Ryan. HAH! Named after your father." He pulled her hair so she was forced to slide on her knees to face him, "I can see why. You have the exact same eyes." One of his fingers brushed along her eye lids, which were closed due to his fingers being so CLOSE to them. Right where she knew he could dig them into the sockets and she could lose her sight forever.

"Have you no notion of _personal space_?" She asked him, gallantly pushing his hands off her face while her stomach was assaulted by all things light and airy. She wasn't surprised when her laughed.

She was surprised when he gripped her face, with such energy and anger that it might be leaving bruises.

"Look, Rye," He started, and rhetorically asked, "Can I call you Rye? Good." with an emotion on his face she couldn't seem to find words for, "You've got a few rules while you-ah… stay with me." Smacking his lips, scars stretching as he talked, "I get to touch you whenever I want." Something jumped between her legs, and she shifted uncomfortably ,"So don't SMACK my hand away. I'm not gonna hurt you unless you do something stupid like try to escape or kill me. Which would, trust me, be the stupidest idea to go along with."

He let go of her face, pacing while he spoke, searching around the room while he looked for other things, "Don't be IRRITATING. Nothing worse than an annoying guest."

"Guest?" She asked, eyes glaring after him each step he took. She wasn't any kind of guest.

"Guest. Guests get to eat, and ask for clothes when they're covered in blood." He gestured to her ruined school uniform, "But I do love the school girl look on you. All you need is pigtails."

She puffed up like an annoyed cat, looking like she was about to assault him with words.

"But, you can basically ask for whatever. You've got a guard, knock on the door when you need to tinkle." He giggled at his usage of words, "Question, sweetheart?"

She swallowed, biting her lip in anticipation of an answer, "You men… are they… " She trailed off, unsure of how to phrase her question.

"None of my men are actually going to touch you. You're _mine._" She felt the familiar warmth between her legs and she sighed in relief.

"So. Comments? Questions? Requests? Favors? Inquiries?" His grin got wider with each one, and she stood to sit on the bed looking at her clothes.

"Maybe something with less blood on it?" Her voice was hopeful.

"I'm always ten steps ahead," He chuckled, and licked his lips before letting out a loud two fingered whistle.

A large man with a red beard entered the room with a rack full of womens clothing and a mirror. He looked to his boss, scars on each inch of skin she could she.

"Benny here'll be your guard. Say hello Benny."

"Hello."

"And that's all. Till we meet again, my little schmooze." He mock kissed the air, and then slammed the door shut behind him.

There was an awkward silence while she looked at Benny and Benny looked at her.

For these awkward moments, Ryanna got the chance to inspect him closely. Most of his scars were fairly new, and a few of them burn marks. He had a shaved head, even though he had the thickest beard she'd ever seen. He was basically a fifth wall in her room, filling up space she hadn't even know there was in the first place.

She startled when the Joker opened the door once more.

"I forgot, dinners at 8. Dress _nicely_." He growled the last sentence and shut the door one last time.

"Benny?"

"Yes?"

"Is he going to kill me?"

"Eventually."

"Oh." And the way she said these words made Benny think she sounded like a five-year-old who had just dropped her ice cream. She stood, and he sat in the corner of the room , "What time is it?"

Benny checked his watch, and quietly said, "7:34."

"May as well get ready now." She shrugged , her hands sliding along the garments on the rack. Just one pair of jeans! Most of these were dresses! Frowning, she sped through them all twice, finally landing on a red dress that fell all the way to the floor. She stood behind the rack while she changed, out of Benny's view, though he could see her naked legs and the garments she dropped one at a time.

As she slipped on the dress, she dryly noticed how even though the front of her dress hid all but her prominent collarbones, it dipped to just an inch above her bottom. Reluctantly, she removed the worn green bra, so that her back was completely bare. She glanced over the shoes that were balanced precariously on the bottom of the rack, and chose a black strappy pair of heels.

When she walked out from behind the rack, she already knew she looked good. From the hungry looked Benny was unsuccessfully trying to hide, she couldn't deny the blush that slid up to her cheeks.

"Do you mind walking me to the bathroom so I could clean off the blood on my face?"

He only grunted and pushed open the door for her, which was apparently now unlocked.

She walked down the hall behind Benny, on tiled hallways of what was probably at some point an office building. When she entered the bathroom, she locked the door behind her and washed her face and hands thoroughly.

When she was finished, she stood in front of the mirror with her hands on the sink, knowing the mischief that was about to come.

The Joker was about to find out he wasn't the only one who knew how to play games.

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	4. Chapter 4

**AN: I got so excited, I just had to write another chapter. I think you guys'll like this one. :)**

**Enjoy, and review!**

Ryanna burst into a fit of giggles upon entering the once conference room, and now her temporary dining room. She was terribly overdressed for Chinese take-out, but then again, so was the Joker.

He looked, though Ryanna would never admit it, marvelously attractive in that purple suit of his. He even had a fake little flower tucked into the pocket, and part of her expected it to spray water. She took two more steps into the room, sliding her fingers along the back of chairs that rotate and spin with her touch.

Ryanna knew what she was doing. She'd done it before, in plays, in her drama classes. She was acting seductive, swaying her hips with each step, cheeks pink from the thorough scrubbing she had given in.

She looked _Sexy. _With a capital 'S'. And she knew the Joker saw it, because she watched his eyes linger just a bit longer than they should at her waist, and slide up her body to her breasts, and finally to her face, on which she housed a mischievous smile. Oh, she knew now, this would be so much fun.

The Joker stood, and made a grand bow towards her, familiar grin and all. He was good at these games, he could so easily block out his emotions. That's why it was dangerous to play games with the Joker. He knew how to.

"My darling Ryanna," He drawled, moving close to her to take her hand and kiss her knuckles in a state of over exaggeration, "I am delighted to be _joined_ with you this evening."

Ryanna giggled, taking her hand from him and covering her mouth shyly. Butterflies flew in her stomach. She didn't stomp on them this time, she lit them on fire, "Oh, please, all this for me." She tried, with fake humbleness.

"Only the nicest for the prettiest of ladies," He grinned, and pulled out a rolling chair for her to sit. She took her seat with grace, and watched as he took his, "The prettiest of ladies who is quite good at acting, I must say. Tell me, did you ever star in a play? You know, big stage, lights, eyes all on you. You must be a little attention whore. How does daddy like that?" He taunted, knowing her weakness.

"I-" She started.

"Oh yes, YOU. Can't we talk about ME for a change?" He put more emphasis on 'me' than any other word.

"Talk away." She stated through gritted teeth.

"Like maybe how I got my scars?" He gave a knowing grin, and with a switchblade began to clean his fingers nails.

"Maybe we should save that story for another day." She eyed the blade cautiously, but no fear showed in her eyes. The Joker took it as a challenge.

"OH, but it's cloudy outside, isn't that enough for you? Always needing the best, aren't you, sweetheart? Tell me, just _how _did you get into that fancy-schmancy school? Did you sleep your way through it, or did DADDY do the fucking for you?"

That was all she needed. She boiled over, rage filling every single one of her senses. She clenched her fists, jaw tight, and took a deep breath.

Took a deep breath right before she launched herself across the table at his _smirking _ass.

And all of it happened so fast. One second she was on top of him, and the next they were on the floor, and then punches were thrown back and forth (hers didn't nearly hold as much force and didn't hit nearly as often). Finally, many bruises, and a bloody nose- of course hers –she ended up pinned to the ground, being straddled by the man who she felt such complicated feelings for.

She had face paint on her fingers, and blood on the gorgeous red dress. When she flexed her thigh, she felt a stinging sensation which could have only been a cut.

But he already had bruises of her delicate fingers forming around her throat, and the collar was ripped from his handsome coat.

_Dumb Collar. Dumb coat. Dumb knife. Dumb JOKER. _

He laced his left hand into her hair, which was already in tangle from the short scuffle of before, "You've got a lot of gall to attack me." His voice, his actions, even his knife was over the edge with pure anger, "Lots of _moxy_, you stupid kid." He growled out, sliding his knife across her neck gently. Goosebumps rose to her skin, and her cheeks flushed red. She felt a familiar warmth between her legs, and she squirmed under him to get away from it.

He watched her with curious eyes, voice now quiet, like he was studying some kind of animal.

"You GOD-damned…" She gasped aloud when he slid the knife over the sensitive flesh of her breast, which was missing it's bra since she'd earlier removed it. The dress was just a thin barrier, and her nipples were now prominently shown through it in her state of arousal.

"You…" He started, bursting into laughter that came deep from his stomach, "You _like_ it!" He dropped the knife to brace himself with one hand to control his steady laughter, eyes shut in glee.

She kept squirming, for the whole however-fucking-long it took him to shut up.

"Oh, darling, you are just precious. I could have so much fun with your weak little," He stopped himself, and grinned an evil grin, "No, not WEAK. Hmmm… Stubborn? No. Frustrating? Mm… Mischievous? Irksome? Headache-inducing, mind-grabbing…" He trailed off into a fit of words before she finally gave up struggling under his weight, and he found a word, "Ah-HAH! Maddening! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HEHEHEHEHE!" He burst into more giggles before he picked up the knife and gently poked her nose with it, "Maddening! Imagine that! Somebody… a teenager… maddening… to me!"

"Get off me." She groaned, unable to breath. He suddenly became very serious, and moved the knife to her neck once more.

"Would you kiss me back?" He asked her, and couldn't even begin to try to remember the last kiss he'd had. For Ryanna, that kiss had never happened in the first place.

"I-I've never…" She began.

"A senior? As gorgeous as you? And never kissed? Still a _virgin_?" He giggled again, and her face reddened in anger.

"No clue about personal space, you don't know a thing about being polite, I bet you don't even-"

The flow of her words stopped.

He kissed her.

And it was wet and sloppy, and his scars were the weirdest thing she'd ever felt, but it was _him_, and he was kissing _her._ So when the butterflies came this time, she frolicked in them and let one of her legs slide up to lean against his body, which he positioned in a place where she'd feel more comfortable. The kiss seemed so perfect, so great, she didn't even noticed the small moan of pleasure that slipped from her mouth into his. He noticed, and in return his growing arousal became much more obvious to her. They played a game that for once involved no talking; however, used a lot of tongue.

Their hips grinded together, and they had no plans of stopping, and kept moving. The blade at her neck had slid from his hands, which he used one to slide his fingers up her waist so gently that she pushed up into him for something more. He couldn't just tease her like that and get away with it.

She retaliated, one of her hands sliding down his chest, to his stomach, where she had planned for it to slide even further.

Her plans were quickly demolished when the window smashed in and glass showered over them like some kind of distorted hail. Before she knew what was happening, The Joker was off her with the knife in his hands, and Batman was standing in the room.

And through his cowl, she could clearly spot the shock that rested on most of his hidden features.

Ryanna smirked, and slid her fingers to grip a large piece of glass, its edges threatening to dig into her fingers.

The Joker and Ryanna seemed to have acquired the most annoying kind of third wheel to ever exist.

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	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Keep up with those reviews, you guys! Don't be afraid to critique me!**

The Joker's cackle filled the room, masking the crunch of class as Ryanna moved to her feet, cheeks blazing a bright red.

"Joker," Batman greeted, reaching to his utility belt for some kind of weapon.

"Batman! My friend! You seem to have interrupted a very crucial moment of our relationship. I don't like that." The Joker smiled, as Ryanna stood back against the long conference table, the scent of fried rice and orange chicken filling her nose. Ryanna slid a finger against the long piece of glass she held behind her, using a napkin around it to protect her fingers, "Maybe you need to learn how to knock!"

Batman wasn't in the mood for Joker's games, and tackled him into a piece of carpet with no glass. Joker punched him in the face, knife poised to stab his throat. Batman was restraining his wrists with his hands.

Ryanna found the whole encounter to be _horribly_ boring. Her fight had so much more action. Batman wasn't even trying to hurt him, just getting him under control. She shifted comfortably, picking up a box of rice and chucking it at Batman.

It hit him directly in the head, and did nothing more than serve her a sideways glance that she interpreted to say, 'What are you doing? You're just a little girl.'

Ryanna took a deep breath, taking two steps forward, before tackling Batman the same he had the Joker. Batman seemed put off by the sudden interruption from her, a move he hadn't anticipated. He tumbled to the side of the Joker, rolling with her until she ended up above him, her piece of glass dangerously close to his neck.

Batman rolled them once more, pinning her underneath him. It was then she realized she'd rather have the Joker pin her any day of the week rather than this stupid bat!

Before he got the chance to confiscate her make-shift knife, she dug it deeply into his left shoulder. She would have gotten his heart if he hadn't dodged. She growled and tried to dig her fingers into his face, somewhere in the back of her mind she heard laughter to her right.

Glass was digging into her back, and the piece she used to stab Batman had dug directly into her fingers, which were bleeding and stinging something fierce. Batman tried to stop her with out hurting her, and did his best to hold her back, but she was as wild as a rabid dog. She kicked, and scratched, and bit when his fingers got to close, and even through this Batman tried not to admit she still looked beautiful- even if insane.

Finally, Batman punched her cheek, to which she was completely stunned. She automatically stopped fighting, eyes glazed over while she fought through the dizziness she felt. Batman got off of her, looking to where the Joker was rolling around, giggling madly on the floor.

Batman could vaguely make out the words, "One… kiss… easy… maddened!" though his fit of glee. Batman shook his head and took off through the broken window, disappearing into the darkness with glass still stuck in his suit.

Ryanna was on the ground, with her eyes closed, and her jaw aching. She tried to stand, but fell back directly into the glass, which dug into her even more. She wasn't sure how much time passed while the Joker giggled, but some where in the mix of it, she closed her eyes and drifted off.

Through her pain-induced sleep, she felt arms around her, holding her, and protecting her.

When Ryanna woke up, she wondered how many times she'd wake up in bloody clothes in some room she'd never before seen in her life. This time her return to the world of awareness included a set of arms around her, and she felt butterflies make their way through her stomach once she realized it was the Joker's. When she tried to smile, she winced.

She had one heck of a bruise. On top of that, whenever she shifted, she could feel stings all down her back, but her fingers were definitely the worst. She just wanted to go back to sleep.

Letting out a loud moan, she looked up to see the Joker watching her intensely. She automatically blushed, and he chuckled under his breath, standing up from the bed.

"Oh, shit." Ryanna muttered as he stood, making her roll slightly onto her back.

"Oh, yeah. Scarecrow's gonna fix whatevers wrong with you," He started, then slowly grinned, "But I don't think anybody's ever gonnna fix that mind of yours. It's broken!" He giggled madly, "With just a kiss!"

She didn't really care about what he was saying at the moment, she just wanted to keep ahold of the sanity she had.

"Please just fix my fucking back so I can move!" She winced as she talked, groaning as she rolled onto her stomach to expose where skin and glass- and lots of blood- was sticking out through her completely ruined red dress.

The Joker found that to be a shame, because he really liked the dress. Besides, he'd gone through the trouble of raiding some girls closet for it. Joker, still chuckling, turned and left the room, which Ryanna noticed to be completely white and utterly sterile.

"Just leave me alone, in pain, probably dying." She growled into the pillow, the cool of its surface refreshing to her swollen cheek.

She looked up as the Joker entered behind a thin, wiry man. He had on the dumbest rectangular glasses she'd ever seen, and pushed them up as he studied her back. He had a cute-nerd sort of look, but his condescending stare was getting on her nerves.

"Hello," He hummed cheerfully, putting a box on a stool that she hadn't even noticed next to her bed, "I'm Doctor Crane, and-"

She interrupted with, "I thought you were Scarecrow."

His eyes blazed over at her interruption, and he smiled cruelly, "Why, yes I am. Only when I wear the mask. Your name, child?"

"Ryanna Swift." She mumbled into the pillow, breath shallow because of the pain in her back.

"Ah, the missing girl. Miss Swift, this is going to be excruciatingly painful. Just know I'm only helping you." She groaned in response, and felt his bony fingers at her dress, and heard scissors snipping away at it.

"Watch it, Crow, she's _mine_." The Joker warned him, and Doctor Crane just rolled his eyes.

"Unless you want bits of cloth in her wounds, I suggest you let me take it off. If it's alright with the lady of course."

Ryanna only grunted.

The Joker laughed, "Shoulda seen her kick ass, doc. Woulda never thought she could! Can't believe how easily-"

The Joker was cut off by Ryanna's screams echoing through the room. Dr. Crane was pouring something on her back to sterilize the wounds before he began picking at them.

And then came the horrible pain of Crane picking glass out of her back. It took so long, her throat was so sore from the screams that ripped up through it. Usually the Scarecrow side of him would be delighted at the screams, but he was an expert on screams, and hers were pain. _Definitely_ not his favorite kind, the fear kind.

After he finally got the last piece of glass form her skin, he poured that horrible alcohol all over her wounds again. She didn't even have the energy to scream this time.

All the while, Crane and Joker had a conversation. Most of it she didn't even hear, just little bits when the pain wasn't so bad.

"She liked it?"

"-only once-"

"-tackled and stabbed im' in the-"

"-odd. Must have quite the-"

"-absolutely maddening."

Scarecrow tapped her shoulder gently, to which she let out a soft moan in question. She didn't want to sit up, she didn't want them to know she was crying.

"I need you to sit up so I can wrap up your back." Crane told her, and nodded to the Joker, who got up to help lift.

She let out soft whimpers as Crane wrapped gauze around her upper torso, blushing a bright red when his fingers moved deftly across her breasts. She found it to be absolutely degrading.

"Mis… Mister Crane?" She asked, tentatively.

"Doctor. Doctor Crane." He corrected her, "What is it?"

"My hand too, " She let out softly, holding up her right hand, which was covered in dried blood and stiffly curled into a ball.

Scarecrow sighed, telling the Joker to hold her in a comfortable position.

They went through the whole process again, with a lack of screaming and thankfully, glass free.

"You're lucking you don't need stiches. Why don't you lay down? You'll be very tired for the next few days." She nodded, and once again flat on her stomach, drifting to sleep.

The whole time, The Joker gently stroked her hair.

**AN: I know you wanted her to capture Batman, but don't be discouraged. This story isn't even close to over.**

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	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Hiya, guys. We've got some more excitement in this chapter. I'd love to hear what you think, so please review. Pretty please, with a cherry on top? :)**

**Oh, and a special thanks to , who has reviewed every chapter so far. Thank you!**

Two weeks. It had taken Ryanna _two weeks_ to fucking heal! And the whole time she was stuck in that tiny white room, with no windows, and an annoying Doctor Crane whose questions NEVER ended.

So when Ryanna was fully healed- sort of, she was still sore- she basically ran around like a wild dog.

She'd barely seen the Joker at all in those two weeks. She'd seen too much of Crane though, who analyzed every little detail. She stood, stretching down to touch her toes gently; eyes alight with irritation and happiness.

Crane was having another one of his so-called 'sessions' with her. He found it absolutely maddening (it seems she was good at that) that she had such a boring past.

"Nothing? No horrible ex-boyfriend? No abusive step-parents? Not a single sibling?" He was almost astonished at her lack of bad luck.

Ryanna rolled her eyes, and lounged back onto the bed once more, "I already told you, I've never had any of those things. The only thing that's really happened is my mom dying, and she did that way before I could even remember it." Ryanna rolled onto her stomach, holding up the back of her shirt to try and peek at the scars that were scattered along her back.

She didn't like them at all, but the scars on her fingers made this cool line-thingy she enjoyed.

"But you can't just go insane with-"

"Damn it, I'm not insane."

"But you-"

"No!"

"And you-"

"No! No! No!" She turned, finally at her boiling point with the pestering doctor, "I'm not insane. I'm not crazy. I don't _like_ the Joker! Why do you keep implying that? It was just one kiss and-"

"He _cuddled_."

"He was tired and fell asleep, you can't blame a man for that." She tried, a lump in her throat when she thought of the warmth of his arms around her.

"The Joker. _Cuddled._" The Scarecrow side of him let out a dark laugh, and then burst into mischievous giggles, "With you! Are you even 18 yet?"

Ryanna sniffed, and turned her head, blushing furiously.

"Oh, god. This is gold. When the Rogue hears about-"

"Hears about what?" The Joker popped his head in through the open door.

"Nothing!" Ryanna and Crane hissed together. Joker leaned against the doorway, picking at his nails, with an expression that Ryanna came to associate with anger.

"You know, I never liked being lied to by my… friends." The Joker gave a smile.

Doctor Crane burst into hysterical giggles again, mostly at the simple fact that The Joker didn't even _know_. Ryanna shot him an angry glare.

The Joker, short temper blaring, launched himself across the room towards Crane, who jumped behind Ryanna, and pushed her forward with glee.

"You're little squeeze here isn't 18 yet." He bit his lip, pushing his glasses up his nose and making Ryanna stumble forward with the force behind his push.

"She's not a _squeeze_, she's a plaything. I like breaking minds." The Joker grinned, and ran finger up Ryanna's arm, to which she shivered and blushed a bright red.

"According to my diagnosis, you've already broken it." Doctor Crane smiled and nodded to her, "You do realize she's fully healed. You know what that means?" He grinned, and gripped her shoulder. Ryanna was close to both of them now, and she felt a little trapped.

The Joker rolled back his shoulders with anticipation, smacking and licking his lips while he watched the mad Crane, "It means she's healed, and we go home."

"Home?" She asked curiously, looking up to him, his face a grin. He cupped her cheek gently, and rolled his tongue along the inside of his cheeks.

"Yes. You see, I've decided to keep you. You've proven yourself so- ah… _useful._" He grinned, thumb brushing over the bruise on the right side of her face, courtesy of Batman.

"I don't want to stay with _you_," Ryanna growled, even though everything told her that she did.

"Children, children," Doctor Crane cut in, slipping himself into the tiny gap between them, making them both take a step back, "You can argue later, but I want my payment."

Ryanna stood on her toes to peek at the Joker's apprehensive face, "Payment?" She asked, eyes ripping from the Joker to Crane's.

"Your friend here promised I could experiment on you if I healed you, and gave you shelter from the Batman." The Scarecrow side of him jumped in anticipation of the delightful screams that would rack his ears and echo off the walls. He grinned.

"You _what?_" Ryanna hissed, venom rolling off her tongue with the words. With poorly disguised anger, Ryanna kicked Crane directly into his crotch.

She let out a burst of giggles at his groan. When he ducked down to hold himself, she aimed a punch right into the Joker's nose. He laughed, even as his nose bled, and Ryanna hightailed it out of the room.

She took off running down a long hallway, with doors flashing by to her left and right. The hallway seemed so long, like it was going on forever. She could see the door at the end, she was so close. Gasping for breath, she pushed the handle of the double doors, squinting through the dark the best she could.

Where in the hell was she?

There was a street light some ways away, so she was able to figure out she was at least outside. She kept running, never stopping, eyes sweeping around until she slowly gathered she was in the Narrows of Gotham. She turned a corner, met with another deserted street. Groaning, she kept running, absently thanking that the more she ran in this direction the more streetlights there were. That was a good sign, right?

How wrong she was.

When she turned her third corner, she ran directly into a man. Closing her eyes, and rubbing her aching nose, she took a peek up at the person who got in her hurried escape.

_Shit shit shit shit shit shit, _Was all she could think as she took off running after ducking under his arm. She ran faster than before, breath hitching up as she pushed herself harder than she had in weeks.

It was her luck to escape the Joker, only to run into the Batman. She could hear his steady feet behind her, and the noise of what must have been his cape flying behind him. She glanced around, for some kind of weapon, as he easily got closer.

She'd just have to use her fists.

She stopped running, and turned, her fist connecting with the only exposed skin on his face.

Batman grunted, and since he wasn't caught off guard this time, was able to throw her over his shoulder and disappear into an alley close by. He set her back on her feet, standing in the only exit of the alley.

"What? Here for revenge? Information?" She questioned him, refusing to fight, and took a seat on the dirty alley floor. She didn't mind, much. She wasn't wearing her clothes. She was wearing an oversized shirt of Crane's and boxers she'd rolled up to fit her better.

The way she crossed her arms, and tucked her legs, made her look like a child throwing a tantrum.

"I only need you to answer some questions." He told her, standing, intimidating with his roughened voice.

She waved her hand, rolling her eyes, and dryly stated, "Ask away, Batman."

"Who are you?" Was his first question of many.

"Ryanna Swift, victim of the Joker." She kept her eyes on his, unafraid.

"You didn't seem like a victim."

"And you don't seem like a hero." She retaliated, which made sense, considering he had trapped her in an alley.

"It's not my job to be a hero."

Ryanna snorted, "Then what _is?_"

"To serve justice," He told her, as if there were any difference.

"Oh god, you're an idiot." She sighed, standing up, "Look, I just want to go home."

"You can when we're done." He told her, "Are you working with the Joker?"

She snorted once more, sick of his ridiculous questions, "He kidnapped me at gunpoint from my school. He tortured my father for information he wasn't even going to use. I've got a 4.0 and a scholarship to Cal Berkley. You think I would throw it all away from some god damned criminal?"

"Then where have you been all this time?" He still doubted her.

"Being healed by Doctor Jonathan Crane, after the lovely little dance we had together." She turned, holding up her shirt, to show him the scars he'd left her all along her back, which were mainly on her right side. They were a bit like stars, shiny with the new tissue.

"Scarecrow?" He asked like he didn't already know.

"Duh." She said quietly, dropping her shirt, and turning back to him.

"How did you escape?" He asked her.

"They wanted to use Crane's toxin on me. I kicked Crane in the most painful spot for a man, and punched Joker in the nose. Then I sprinted out. I'm a little surprised at my luck."

"That makes both of us." He said, like he was going to laugh.

"Anything else?" She asked him, coughing suddenly in the cold.

"Do you need help?"

"Help?" She asked, glancing at him with suspicion.

"Getting home. Do you know where you are?"

"Yes." She said, and then paused, sighing, "No."

He nodded, and picked her up once more. Ryanna didn't exactly want to go home. She wanted to see her father, wanted clothes, wanted a real shower, and most importantly she wanted to see daylight.

She still wanted to see the Joker too, but maybe seeing Batman would keep her safer for now.

Right when Batman was about to take his exit from the alley, a van drove up and blocked the way. He dropped her, shoving her behind himself as if she couldn't protect herself.

She sniffed, pride offended, and moved instead to stand next to him. She was not a cowering little _girl_. The door opened, and out walked Joker with a laugh, and Scarecrow.

Yes, Scarecrow now, no longer Doctor Crane. He had a straw mask that sent shivers up her spine, with the same suit as before.

"Batman! Tryin' to make off with my girrrl?" The Joker rolled his r's, "Now, Straw-man."

Scarecrow threw something at their feet. Smoke drifted up into her nose, and the batman covered his mouth, holding his breath.

Ryanna didn't realize this, she inhaled the scent, basking in the smell. It smelt so good, like she couldn't get enough. She forced herself into reality stumbling back as she realized this was Scarecrows toxin.

She plunged into darkness, and let out a bloodcurdling scream.

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	7. Chapter 7

**AN: This chapter in fairly short (In other words=really short), but I should have another one posted soon, so don't you fret. **

**As always, please review. I know there are more of you out there with something to say. :)**

**Enjoy!**

Chapter 7

Oh god it was dark. It was so dark.

When she closed her eyes, it was lighter than when she opened them. But she couldn't dare close them. Something was watching her. She could feel them in the air.

Something was there, waiting, watching her curl into a ball with tears run down her face.

Some predator, studying their pray before they made the final kill, before they devoured her.

She let out a scream, because in the dark, some knife or nail or something scratched her shoulder. The cut was deep and could feel the blood running down her arm. With a whimper, she burst away from whatever had cut her, feeling for something, whimpering for help.

Another scream, another cut, this time on her face. She reached up to hold it, feeling the blood ran through her fingers. She couldn't possibly have that much blood, could she?

"Stop… p-please," She whispered, as another cut sliced up her thigh. She felt useless, she couldn't protect herself. She couldn't see, and something was attacking her.

More cuts. All over her body, multiple at a time in different places. What could she do? She was too slow for the mysterious beast, too blind to run from it.

She kept walking, kept moving, and kept receiving stinging cuts all over her body, cuts that bled waterfalls. She hadn't screamed in a while, unable to get much sound out besides soft whimpers and pleas for help.

She felt pathetic. She felt worthless, useless, alone, afraid. She felt _weak_.

Sitting suddenly, even as the cuts kept coming, she lay back, letting out gasps as the cuts dug deeper. She slid her hands alone her body, ripping the shreds of her clothing in the process to get them out of the cuts.

There was something in the air now, moisture she couldn't see. It seeped into her cuts, like somebody had just dipped her in salt. She kicked and screamed and fought like an animal in a trap.

She found the voice to scream again, louder than all her others. She felt hands restraining her, holding her down for the beast that was about to destroy her.

Her vision was slowly coming back, but she didn't want it to, didn't want to see the horrors she was about to experience. Her eyes shut; she kept fighting, even as her pain slowly died down.

She slowly stopped fighting, whimpering, pain gone, but the feeling of it lingering in her memory.

Her sense of hearing was there, she could hear somebody muttering in her ear. She was too tired to make out what he was saying.

She felt the hands on her still, but still didn't fight. She had lost all energy. She didn't even want to open her eyes.

"Shush, that's a good girl." The hands let go of her wrists, and she felt them move up to stroke her hair gently. The gesture was so comforting; she had to open her eyes to see who bestowed this kind of love onto her.

The light blinded her for a moment, and it took too much energy to open her eyes. When she did, she almost felt like she had been sent some kind of fucked-up angel.

The light of the room haloed around his head, highlighting his green hair, and making his scars look more ghastly. His face paint had scratches in it, one of them bleeding into his eye, like somebody had attacked him. He had an expression that both confused her, and scared her.

He looked worried.

Not over a plan, or batman, or like he was going to die.

He looked worried for _her_.

Her heart warmed, and her insides heated up, and she looked up at him with such love that he almost wasn't sure she was actually out of her toxin-induced state yet.

Another pair of hands let go of her ankles, and her gaze was ripped away from her angel. A man, missing his signature mask, had glasses tilted crookedly on his nose, which was bleeding onto his once-white shirt. He was watching her with glee, and she gave him a looked of hatred.

"I…" She trailed off her voice tired and scratchy from her screams.

"Yes?" He asked

", fucking hate you." She finished, looking back to her savior, and then shutting her eyes, dropping into a slumber that was thankfully dream-free.

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	8. Chapter 8

**AN: I told you more would becoming soon, my pretties. **

**I don't think any of you need to worry about Ryanna becoming a Harley Quinn. She's too smart for that. On the other hand, I can't promise she's not insane. I mean, we're all insane on the inside anyways. **

**I always appreciate your reviews, suggestions, and critiques. So keep em' coming.**

**Hope you like it. :)**

Ryanna turned over on the bed, half awake, refusing to open her eyes and face the reality of where she was. She knew once she sat up, she was going to do her best to strangle that damned doctor.

Maybe she'd rip out his teeth one by one.

Or maybe she'd pop out his eyes and shove them down his throat.

It didn't matter much, as long as he knew what it was like to feel fear. Every time she thought about that awful hallucination, she started sweating and her eyes would get all teary. She'd feel the pain all over again, and she'd have to think of something else to pull her from that reality.

Somebody entered the room, but she kept her breathing even, and her eyes closed. She didn't want to be bugged.

Their steady steps towards her bed echoed on the walls, stopping soon after he stopped right next to her. That's how she knew it was Crane.

The Joker walked like a cat, she would've barely heard his footsteps if he was hear.

She was silently planning her attack, when she felt a stethoscope pressed against her neck.

That was her breaking point.

She leaped from the bad, tackling the stunned doctor onto the floor. He let go of the stethoscope, which was now crushed in between the two. The anger rolling off of Ryanna filled the room, her eyes becoming deathly in their search for revenge.

She laced her fingers in her hair, and slammed his head against the tiled floor, a bit disheartened when it wasn't with as much force as she would have had two weeks ago.

"You-fucking-asshole." She hit his head on the tile after each word, to punctuate her hatred for the man.

His eyes were half closed, and he was barely groaning now. All she could feel was anger. She wanted him to feel the pain he'd caused her, the trauma she'd been through because of him.

Having no knife, she settled for her nails, digging them into the skin of his bicep and dragging them down. He let out a choked scream, and she let out an angry laugh after.

"How dare you experiment on me?" She growled through her teeth, her words hitting him like a slap in the face.

Blood was seeping through his white shirt, and she tightened the tie around his neck so that he was only able to get in half-breaths.

"Afraid yet, Scarecrow?" She was about to tighten it further, when she heard the familiar laughter close by her.

She snapped her head up to the door, abandoning her prey for the moment, to look with confusion towards the Joker.

She was a sight, still in clothing that had rips all over it from her struggle under the toxin, and brown hair wildly slithering around her shoulders with each movement.

She was slowly choking Crane, who had matted hair and blood on the back of his head, and scratches along his arm like a cat had inflicted them.

"Come on, baby-cheeks, we can't kill him." She bit her lip, and even though she still had that glorious image of him as an angel in her head, she wasn't partial to being told what to do.

"But I want to kill him," She growled out, digging her nails into his side. Blood soon seeped through there.

Cranes fingers were clawing madly at her hands on his tie, but she kept hold of it firmly, still angry at the doctor.

"You can do it another day. Just not _today._" The Joker was clearly amused by it, and she just crossed her arms in the frustration of it all.

Crane's eyes were half-closed now, so she loosened the tie for him, and stood up while he gasped for breaths. She started walking for the Joker, and got an idea.

Turning, she kicked Crane in the side in one swift motion, and as he coughed told him, "Try that shit on me again, Crane. Just see what happens."

She walked directly past the Joker, and back towards the double doors she knew were there, "I don't care if I'm a prisoner right now, I just want to be out of here." She said, with exasperation.

The Joker gave her an once-over, and smiled, shaking his head, "If you want to walk outside like that, be my gues_t." _

Ryanna looked down at herself, turning a beet red, and covering one of the larger holes in the shirt. That hole gave a very clear view of her chest. There were a lot of other rips, but she didn't dare move her hands.

"You looked!" She accused him wildly. She would've slapped him if she didn't need to cover up.

The Joker shrugged, holding back giggles, which made her angrier, "I'm a man. So-uh, what can I say?" He grinned, and she glared.

"Will you please get me something to wear then?"

The Joker sighed, "I don't really want to, but I _am_ a gentleman." He grinned once more, and shrugged off his purple coat, tossing it to her.

She was forced to catch it, and turned quickly to pull it around her. It was long on her, and fit her even worse than Crane's shirt did. Pulling her hair out of it, and arranging it on her shoulders, she turned around and stuck her tongue out at him, to continue walking.

"Do you know where you're going?" He asked her with amusement, and she paused, taking a deep breath to control her anger.

"I know how to get out of here, that's all I need." She said through gritted teeth, clenching her fists till her knuckles turned white.

"Well, actually, we need to get to _my_ house. So, if you'll _excuse_ me." He told her, bumping into her as he walked past.

She held in curse, and followed him into the burning light of the sun, and into an alley next to what she assumed was an abandoned home-turned medical facility by Scarecrow.

He unlocked the same white van that had blocked her passage out of the alley, and she took a seat on the passenger's side.

Why was she going with him willingly, anyways? She wasn't really sure. She knew she could probably get away if she really tried right now. She could probably even jack the van if she could get her hands on a weapon. The Joker could probably find her again, catch her, but not if she left the city with her father. She'd be going off to college anyways the end of this semester. She was turning eighteen in two weeks, she would legally be an adult. She could get away. So easily.

But why didn't she want to?

She shifted uncomfortably in the seat, plagued by her thoughts.

"Did you steal this car?" She asked him, so suddenly she wasn't even sure where the question had come from. She wanted to hear his voice.

"Yes." He told her, completely focused on driving, even though he drove like a maniac anyways.

"What about your clothes?"

"I don't remember." He told her, with a clenched jaw.

"Hm." She said thoughtfully, wondering what else to say, "What's your real name?"

"I don't know. I wouldn't tell you _anyways_." He growled to her, and she sniffed, offended.

"Well, fuck you then." She muttered under her breath, watching the Narrows pass by her slowly.

He didn't answer, and they drove for what felt like forever through horrible neighborhoods, with criminals openly walking with guns strapped to their waists. She eyed them distastefully.

"What happened to Batman?" She looked at the Joker, as they finally pulled into another alley, one of the millions on this side of Gotham.

The Joker pulled the keys out of the ignition, "He got away." He got out of the car, and she followed, walking behind him as he unlocked a door hidden by a dumpster that smelt like death.

He unlocked the door, sighing as he entered a small hallway and stretched, "Home, sweet home." He flipped on a light switch, to reveal a house she definitely wouldn't expect.

It was small, but very homey. It was comfortable; the furniture wasn't even that bad- if a bit old. The paint on the walls was peeling in places, but there were still a few things hanging, a map of Gotham almost took up a full wall. There was a tiny kitchen, connected to the living room through a door with no knob. There were stairs leading up, and she was almost excited to go up them. Joker kicked off his shoes by the entrance (she didn't need to, she had none), and waved his hand upstairs.

"You can just find something to wear up there." He lay back on the couch, hands behind his head, and closed his eyes.

She took off the coat, laying it across him, before bouncing up the stairs, which were creaky and covered in dust.

There were two doors, and the first one she entered was cluttered with papers, weapons, boxes, and a bed that looked like it was never used. She shut the door, and turned to the other. When she went to open it, the knob fell off in her hands, and she kicked it open instead, setting the knob back into the door delicately.

This room had clothes all over the floor, and a bed that wasn't made. It was odd of her to note the smell of Joker lingered her as she didn't even know she knew his scent. She shut the door behind her gently, listening to the click, before kicking all of his clothes into a pile in the corner of the room. She took off her ripped clothing, including the boxers, and tossed those into the pile as well.

She opened the closet, and was surprised to find his clothes in such neat order, hung up according to color and type. She picked a shirt, a button up, and put it on, not bothering with anything under for now. She could be free.

Well, at least under the blankets. Which is exactly what she did.

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	9. Chapter 9

**AN: Sorry, it's taken me a bit more than usual to upload this chapter. Thanksgiving and Black Friday left me completely exhausted. **

**This story is rated M for a reason, you guys. Remember that. **

**I hope you enjoy, and review as always. :) **

Chapter 9

"UP UP UP UP UP!" The Joker's voice broke into her silly dreams of talking cats. Somebody ripped the blanket off the bed, leaving her legs to be assaulted by the cold air.

"Nooooo," She groaned out, curling her legs into a ball to protect her nakedness.

"I said _up_!" He lifted the mattress on the side, tilting it so she slid down its length and hit the worn carpet on the floor. She grunted, reaching up to hold her head and shoot a glare at the Joker, who was giggling.

She stood, pulling the shirt down a bit, and crossed her arms. Pouting a bit, she took the blanket from the floor, and wrapped it around her arms, sniffing lightly, "I was up." She lied.

"We need to go shopping." He grinned in anticipation, and she watched him in confusion.

"Shopping?"

"Well, if you want to stay dressed like that, I suppose you can." His grin never left, but he did, not waiting for an answer as he bounded down the steps, and out the door.

She frowned, mumbling to herself, "A lady needs time to get ready," She reluctantly put back on boxers, rolling them up once more and she sped down the stairs. Shutting the door behind her, she saw the Joker picking at his nails in the jeep, which had been started.

He honked the horn as she slowly made her way for the jeep, and sat in the passenger side, glaring daggers at him the whole way.

"You are the most impatient man I've ever met."

"What can I say? I liked shopping!" And with that, he sped out of the alley, and into the streets of the Narrows.

_oOo_

Ryanna was giggling in the car, horrible country music blasting in her ears. All the windows of the van were down, allowing the cool darkness to seep in, on adding to the glee of both her and the Joker. The back of the van was filled with clothes that she had personally picked out with him. He'd even had her try on clothes, which resulted in his hilarious attempt to imitate men from _Project Runway._

He was wearing the most ridiculous hat she'd ever seen. It was huge and purple, with a giant feather sticking out of it, fluttering in the wind from outside. He held his hand up, stroking the feather, muttering words she couldn't even hear over the music. It just made her laugh even more, deep laughs that came directly from her belly, and flew into the Joker's ears. He loved it as much as she did.

How was she ever scared of him?

She ran over the memories of her father, his knife on her neck, the gun pressed into her back, all the memories where he'd threatened or hurt her.

And for some reason, some crazy wild reason, she didn't even care a little bit.

Stuck in her thoughts, giggling still at the Joker, she only looked out of the van when they pulled into the alley. He turned off the car, not bothering to remove the keys, and reached behind them to grab bags of clothes. She did the same, still with a small smile, and followed him into the small home.

He tossed the hat into the dumpster on his way in, and dropped the bags next to the couch, flipping on the television.

"Rye- you'll love this." He sat on the couch, and she dropped her bags to sit next to him, eyes locking onto the small TV as a news reporter popped up.

She was pretty, with bright eyes that were just a little creepy. Her voice was solemn, and her face as well as she began talking, "This afternoon Gotham's notorious criminal The Joker went on another of his killing sprees, this time with a companion who citizens have already assumed to be a lover of the Joker's. We have footage of one of the many stores the Joker and his new companion have robbed," The shot of the woman cut to a fuzzy video of her on the Joker's shoulders, reaching for a shirt she had especially liked. It suddenly paused, zooming in to her face, with a large grin, eyes watching the camera curiously, before the woman was back on the screen "Police have told that this she is suspected to be missing Ryanna Swift, who was taken hostage from her school three weeks ago. Her father, Ryan Swift, was able to make a statement," The screen was now on her father's face, which was stricken with grief, and her heart clenched in guilt. His voice dug its claws into her guilt and made the pain much worse.

"I just want my baby back. She's all I have left. She'll only be eighteen on the 23rd."

The screen shot back to the woman, who was staring intently into the camera with poorly masked pity for the father, "Who knows if this young woman is doing these crimes willingly? Will this new jester become a part of Gotham's Rogue Gallery? All we can do know is put our hope into the GPD, and Batman, for our safety." The TV went on to give a memorial of each of the seven who died under the Joker's knife.

The Joker flicked off the TV, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "'New jester…'" He quoted the reporter under his breath, looking up as Ryanna let out a sob, despite her attempts not to cry.

"I shouldn't be doing this. I'm so ashamed. I need to apologize, find my father, turn myself in…" She trailed off, standing to frantically take a few steps toward the door.

"Slow _down_," The Joker grabbed her wrist, standing with her as she moved to the door, "We won't be turning ourselves in anytime soon."

"But it's my entire fault, and-and-and…" She couldn't finish her sentence, and instead, just turned away her face away from him, trying to keep her trek for the door. He let her get close, and her hand on the knob, but as soon as she began to turn it, he pinned her against the door.

She took a deep breath, turning herself so she was facing him. Since their heights were so drastically different, she had to tilt her head up to look up to his eyes. She was only met with his lips, and a bit more pressure against her body.

She'd forgotten how good it felt to have his lips against hers, how the pleasure formed with each jolt of her heart, how even as his scars brushed against her cheeks she still loved it. She had no hesitation in kissing him back, and was even more overjoyed when he began to tease her with his tongue and she did so back.

Their hips moved together, causing her lips to slow down as she focused on the pleasure he was building up in her. She slid her arms around his neck, tilting her head fully back as he slid his lips along her neck, his frustrated hands attempting to remove his shirt from her. Instead of doing each button, he ripped it open, her small giggles making the Joker grow harder.

His mouth found her breasts, and she gasped, tightening her arms around him, moving her hips harder, even as he slid down the boxers she was still wearing. She wasn't nervous to be unclothed in front of him, too caught up in the pleasure of the moment to do anything but let out gasps and use her fingers to undress him in return.

His clothes feel, revealing scarred, but strong muscle. He lifted her, and she complied, wrapping her legs around him, moaning as he rubbed her teasingly, back still up against the door she had desperately wanted to be out of minutes ago.

She let herself be dominated by him, and enjoyed every moment of it.

Her skin, so soft, moved against his which showed the evidence of the rough life he'd lived since he was young. His lips stayed at her neck, teasing the tender skin there enough to make her go wild.

He moved himself, positioning himself to enter her, to take her abstinence from her. That's when she started to get nervous.

She squirmed away from him, breathing hard now in panic, no longer pleasure, "Wait," She managed to get out. He seemed annoyed by the interruption, eyes traveling up to look at hers.

"What's _wrong?_" His voice sounded so normal compared to hers, if only a little out of breath.

"I've never…" She shrugged, saying the words in body language that she couldn't out loud.

His laughter was loud in the silence, and she couldn't deny herself that it made her get a little hotter, "There's a first time for everything."

He thrusted inside of her, and she was met with searing pain. She didn't scream, she just gritted her teeth, gasping into his ear, muscles clenching tightly around him. Her nails dug so deeply into his skin that he bled.

"Relax," He told her, his hot breath moving along the skin of her neck, which was slick with the perspiration of pain and pleasure all mingled in one, "Relax," He repeated, beginning to move himself slowly, with a pattern. She was surprised at how gentle he had become, how he treated her like she was delicate. She'd never seen this side of him before.

She relaxed slowly, moving her hips with his, moans coming back with more power than before as pleasure slowly overcame pain.

They moved together, synchronizing, late into night.

She knew she could never go back to who she was before. She would never be the same. She knew that she was now his. And she was going to enjoy every second of it.

Ryanna Swift was gone. Rye had been born.

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	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

**AN: This is a bit of a boring chapter, but I'm losing steam here. I need some help. Should Rye adapt a villain persona? What kinds of craziness might the Joker be planning? Come on guys, this is pretty much my first fanfic, help me here.**

**On another note, I've decided I'm going to be doing review replies for now (end of chapter). Maybe that will prompt more of you to review. Reviews are almost better than chocolate. ****_Almost. _**

Rye woke up alone in the morning, much to her disappointment. She'd woken up repeatedly throughout the night, in the Joker's arms, and now he wasn't here.

Suddenly, she sat up, fingering the blankets on top of her. Hadn't she fallen asleep on the couch with him? She lifted the blankets, which were cross-stitched in a fairly simple pattern (Ryanna had loved to sew, Rye didn't know if she did anymore). She'd fallen asleep with no clothes either, and now she was wearing the sheer nightie they had stolen from Victoria's Secret.

Flipping the blankets off her, she set her feet on the ground, rubbing her hands against her thighs while she absently wondered if he had dressed her. She smiled at the thought.

Last night had been wonderful; she would never deny that fact. Rye did feel odd though. Wasn't she supposed to be afraid of him? Wasn't he supposed to be ruthless? Evil? Horrible? He had been so gentle, and even though his touches were rough, she could practically feel the care radiating off him. He'd probably deny it if she accused him, but she knew some part of him wanted to treat her like she was fragile.

Which, she most definitely, was _not_.

Turning to make the bed, she sighed, reaching for the blankets to pull over. Something made her eyes squint in confusion, brows crinkling in thought.

Was that blood on the mattress? She leaned closer to inspect it, noting it was fresh, and looked at herself for injury before it slowly donned on her. Leave it to Mother Nature for a gift now. She growled under her breath, muttering about stupid periods, as she removed the comforter and sheet.

She didn't even have tampons! Not even a single _fucking_ panty liner. She tightened the bloodied sheet into a ball, and flinched as her name was called from downstairs.

Ugh, she didn't want him to see she was all… bloody.

"I'm busy!" She called back down, gritting her teeth as she checked between her legs. Yep, it was her period for sure.

"If you don't get down here right now, I will come up there and _get you myself!_" Ryanna groaned, shifting uncomfortably, before she heard a warning stomp on the floor.

She whined out loud, to nobody, before slowly opening the door, and beginning the trek down the stairs, inconspicuously covering the front of the soiled nightie.

It was actually quite cute, a pretty purple that flowed down an inch under her waist, and outlined her breasts perfectly. She liked it a lot, and even the Joker told her that she had been born for purple. Some part of her translated that into, 'You were born for me'.

She stopped at the stairs, cheeks blushing furiously as she entered the living room stumbling over her words, "Uh, I have a b-bit of-"

Her words stopped as she noticed the four large men sitting on the couch, and a few of the kitchen chairs in the living room. Joker was on the love seat, legs propped up on the table, grinning at her like he had just played the biggest prank. She really hoped he wasn't doing it on purpose.

"Rye, sweetheart, these are my most trustworthy henchmen. They're the only ones that have lasted for a few years." He pointed to each one, listing them off.

The largest actually smiled at her, eyes strictly above her neck. He had no hair, and no beard, but she could see the thick folds of it coming from his arms and his chest. He had brown eyes, and must have been at least two feet taller than her, and twice as wide as her, "This is Franco."

The next was the second-smallest, the guy who watched over her back when Batman had first attacked. He still had the red beard, and the completely straight face. Somehow, he was more intimidating that Franco, "You know Benny." Benny grunted his recognition.

Another man, with dark skin, and long dreaded hair, watched her with eyes so white, that they looked like marbles. He had his arms crossed, his eyes lingering on her body for a moment, and nodding a curt hello, "Mikey." The Joker pointed.

And last, the one she already decided she didn't like, was the one whose eyes haven't left her body since she had come down the stairs. The man, with brown hair and green eyes, leered after her, making her feel uncomfortable, "Marcus." He didn't even look into her eyes.

"Boys, when I'm not here, she's in charge."

Rye squeaked in shock, blinking up at him, almost removing her hands, "What?"

"Do you want to be bossed around by a bunch of thugs?" They didn't even blink at his insult. She quickly shook her head, and he smiled, "Now, what was it that you were about to tell me?"

She turned bright red, yet again, and once more became nervous, "I… can I talk to you in… um, private?" She asked, looking at the ground.

The boys became interested as soon as she spoke, her nerves completely obvious in front of them.

"No. Say it here." The Joker smiled, in anticipation of her motification.

"Well, I… I um…" She trailed off, never moving her hands.

"Spit. It. Out." He told her, annoyed.

"Period! I'm on my period!" She squeaked out so quickly, that none of the boys had to take a few seconds to process it. Franco turned red, and scratched the back of his neck. The rest of the boys shifted awkwardly, and the Joker laughed, like she expected.

"And?" He asked her, through her giggles.

"I don't have any-" He cut her off.

He shook his arms, laughter gone, "Stop! I don't want to hear it! Make a list of what you need. Franco will get it."

"But _boss,_" Franco started, with a tone that said he didn't want to pick up anything.

"Ah! No buts!" The Joker grinned, and ripped a piece of paper in half on the table, handing it to Franco, who then picked up a pen and handed that to her as well. She took it and, retreated through the door into the kitchen, where Franco quickly followed her.

Franco, still red, caught the sight of why she had been covering, and closed his eyes, "Uh, sorry lady. Didn't mean to uh… yeah." He moved to turn, but Rye gently tapped his shoulder.

"Um, here's the list. Thanks for this. I really appreciate it." She smiled at him, and he smiled back, taking the list.

"No problem." Without another word, he left, and she sprinted back up the stairs to change and take care of the sheets.

**WinterRain36: ****You seem to be all for Batman getting beat by Rye. I've got a few ideas, but no promises, because the more I write this story the more ideas I get and then I just fly all over the place like confetti. Only green confetti, though, because green confetti is the best kind of confetti. **

** .aBox: ****The Joker's always seemed more spontaneous than romantic to me. I'm glad I'm appealing to you then. I hope this update was soon enough for you.**

**kindleflame5: ****I'm glad you understand about the Joker being in charge, a lot of my reviewers don't seem to be understanding that the Joker isn't one to be bossed around. He's like a cat. Just a lot less fuzzy. And he doesn't have a sandpaper tongue (I think). Even though I don't know much about Batman yet, I can promise that there will be plenty of chaos to come from Rye. She's definitely grown more chaotic since that oh-so-fateful day at school when she was taken hostage. **

**REVIEW**


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

**AN: Short chapter, but I figured I should give you guys something to read while I finish up the next chapter. I promise some excitement pretty soon. There's a storm abrewin'. J **

Rye spent practically the whole day upstairs. It's not because she didn't feel good, she felt fine actually, but because those men were downstairs. The only one who didn't scare her was Franco, and he was gone most of the time. Joker was planning something, and she wasn't a part of it.

She did feel a little left out, that he didn't want her there. Didn't he like her? He had to at least a little bit. She wouldn't be alive still if he didn't like her. Unless he was prolonging her death for fun, but somehow she didn't suspect that was the case at all. Somehow she just knew, and felt inside, that he wanted her around.

She smirked, moving from the rickety desk she had been drawing on. It had taken her forever to get the so-called office in order. Almost twice she had shot herself with guns that were carelessly loaded and thrown onto the floor. She was thankful her father had taught her gun safety as a child, otherwise she probably would have.

Rye had never really liked guns. The way she say them, they were kind of like cheating in a fight. Of course she knew they were for protection. Well, more for the crime in Gotham, but protection across the States. At her fancy-schmancy school, she'd done so many other kinds of weapons it was almost ridiculous. They'd had classes for fencing, and archery. Those were the only two she'd taken, and she had enjoyed it a lot.

She was head of the fencing club there for a while too, till she quit to wrestle on her team. She snorted, and was met with many memories of teasing for that.

'Dyke' she'd be called or, 'Manly bitch'.

She'd always told herself it's because those boys could handle being beaten by a girl. A tiny girl, the only one on the team which she had always been proud of, had kicked the ass of almost everyone within 50lbs of her weight bracket. She reveled in that fact, and smiled, absently putting away the colored pencils and paper she had found. She'd only succeeded in drawing one picture before she became too occupied for inspiration.

She looked down at the picture, and smiled lightly. It was a skeleton, a woman from the feminine curve of the eyes and the long hair, wearing a wedding dress. The dress was once beautiful, but now torn and ripped in several places, revealed the bones of her ribcage and pelvis. The skeletons eyes were stuck in grief, and her arms reaching out towards something. She had no idea where the inspiration had come from.

Shoving the picture in the desk, amongst random papers where it would hopefully never be found, she heard the Joker call her name from downstairs. Sighing, she adjusted her sweats and the flannel she was wearing, and headed down the stairs, into the living room which was now a complete mess.

Along with a few crates filled with explosives, like four boxes of pizza lie empty around the room. There was a map of some sort lain out on the coffee table, with red x's in a few different places. They were all bent over the table in thought, until the last step creaked (like always).

"Yeah?" She asked, leaning against the wall, and surveying the room she'd probably end up cleaning.

"Oh, Rye, good. We need you tonight." The Joker smirked at her, probably at some joke that had been previously said at her expense. She became anxious. What did they need?

"Need me to what?" She asked, expecting something she wouldn't like.

"A… distraction," He exaggerated the words, and motioned her to look at the map on the table.

Rye complied, standing close next to the Joker, whose attitude seemed oddly serious.

"Is that a map of city hall?" She inquired, after studying it for a moment.

"Mhm," The Joker grinned excitedly, "And what's in city hall?"

"The… mayor?" The Joker shook his head, "City council meetings?" He shook his head once more, and she studied the map again, eyes lighting up in recognition.

The Joker spotted her understanding, and feeling no need to confirm it, clapped her on the back (a little too hard), and went on to explain the plans for the night.

Rye wasn't sure how she felt, and rubbed her chin at his plans, and finally sighed.

This was going to be a long night. Especially if she had to wear a dress.

**Highlander348:**** Sorry about all the creepy period talk! Like I said, total writers block. I literally just sat down and started writing the first thing that came to mind. I had to stall you with something while I thought up a plan. Jester was a name I was originally thinking for her, I even mentioned something like it a few chapters ago, but I feel like that's just going to make her even more of a Harley Quinn. Which I'm trying desperately to avoid. I'm going to be honest with you (I like you a lot, you review often. :3), and I'm still not sure at all with how I want her and Batman to face each other. I know at some point they're going to meet again, and I know that he'll feel disappointment with her mental decline, and she just won't like him. But capturing him is just a different thing altogether. I'm trying to do my best and stay realistic, so I'm worried that situation would take away from the story. I'm glad for your input. Keep reviewing. Thanks! **

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	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Rye shifted in the heels, leaning into the mirror to apply a last layer of lipstick, bright and cheerful red that went perfectly with her wavy locks of brown hair. She smiled brightly at herself, and checked her appearance once more.

It was a simple dress, but that didn't stop her from looking absolutely stunning in it. The black material flowed as smooth as the waves that lapped onto Gotham's shores, and frame her tightly until it flared out at her hips, making her waist look tinier than it actually was.

The red heels, extremely tall, made her back straight. She tilted her chin up, feeling confident, and slowly let the hair down from their hot curlers. She kept a smile on, preparing herself mentally. This was going to be so perfect, so exciting.

The ball, a fundraiser for the less fortunate of Gotham (basically all in Gotham), was a masquerade that would be filled with the rich. All the billionaires would be there; Bruce Wayne, John E. Carson, the richest of the rich.

The plan was so simple; she was just a distraction while the boys got the real work done. From her ruby lips, a wave of giggles erupted. This was going to be so _exciting. _She couldn't wait.

Just as she let the last curl fall, a knock sounded on the door. She sighed, knowing it wasn't who she wanted it to be. He had left hours ago.

"Yeah?" The irritation showed in her voice.

It was Mikey, and he had no qualms about opening the door right away, "Ya' forgot this." He told her, pushing out a mask that was delicately wrapped in tissue paper.

She picked it up slowly, and set the package on the sink, opening it with gentle fingers. The mask was gorgeous, the same black as her dress, laced with red spider webs. She lifted her hair with her wrists, using the ribbon to tie it onto her, letting her hair hide the strap.

She eyed herself in the mirror, noticing how the mask seemed to make her eyes stand out even more. The blue looked icier, somehow, colder than before. She smirked while tucking a few things into her purse. Feminine items, her lipstick and perfume, along with the necessaries like a knife and the smoke bomb she was so excited to use.

Mikey hadn't left, so she turned in the tiny restroom and held out her arms, "How do I look?" She shimmied her hips a little, and grinned.

"Like some sexy demon from hell," He wasn't shy about letting his eyes roam over her figure, and she let him. She wasn't nervous here anymore, not now. Not when she felt so positively beautiful. The mask, even though plenty would know who was under it by the end of the night, gave her an anonymous confidence. She reveled in it.

"Then let's go." She smiled, pushing him out of the doorway with the tip of her finger, and her complied. She walked down the stairs, knowingly swaying her hips with each step, "Which car am I taking?" She asked, wondering if she'd show up to the party in that god-awful van.

" The boss had us grab ya' somethin' special," He said behind her, tossing keys over her shoulder. Surprisingly, she caught them as they jingled past her ear.

She shook them, and walked directly outside. She and Mikey were the only two here, anymore, as the others had left to fulfill their part of the plan.

She almost squealed in happiness at the sight of the car in front of her, a 2005 Porsche Carrera. She would never get to keep it, but the sight of the top down and the anticipation of the wind in her hair seemed like it was going to be a treat.

The Joker had thought of her. She clutched her heart warmly, keys in hand, before skipping to the deep red car. The red matched her shoes, and she couldn't help but grin.

She took her place in the driver's seat, and watched as Mikey pulled out of the alley, soon leaving after him.

The drive to the other side of town had been long, but pleasant, and left her with red cheeks and windblown hair. She was a little late, but that was fine. It meant she could pull right up to the valet, something she'd never done before in her life. A young Asian man, dressing in a dashing black suit, hurried to her side, opening the door.

"Good Evening, Miss." He began, but seemed to lose his introduction as she stepped out of the car. She let out a small laugh, leaning close to his lips.

"Howdy there, partner. Mind taking this for me?" She asked quietly, beginning to walk away as she slid her hands across his stomach, red clutch in hand.

"Y-yes, mam." He told her, stunned as she took off, calling over her shoulder. Getting away from him without tipping was easier than she thought.

"You can put me down as Swift," She told, not even looking back to him as she walked up the elaborate steps to City Hall.

She planned to walk right past the small guards station, but she was stopped by an fit man in his early 30's. He wore the same kind of suit as the valet, though missing the hat, and he had an earpiece in as well as a few expected items hanging from his belt.

"We need your name, Miss…?" He trailed off, waiting for her to answer. She looked up at where he had stepped in her way, and smiled, tilting up her chin.

"Don't the names ruin the fun?" She took a step closer, her sweet breath hitting his lips as she spoke, "Why not just let me in?" Rye asked, pushing her lips into his as she trapped him in a breathless kiss.

She was somewhat disgusted kissing the man, who was probably something ten years her senior, but she didn't dare let herself appear that. She could feel his arousal growing, and her lipstick smudging onto his lips. She peeped open an eye, and smiled as she spotted him with his eyes tightly closed.

"I'll be back later, maybe I'll tell you my name then." She spoke against his lips, and slid off into the doors. Somebody opened them for her, she didn't notice the man, she was too busy fixing her lipstick with a red compact, popping a mint in her mouth. She couldn't help but think that it wasn't _nearly_ as fun as kissing the Joker had ever been.

She shuddered, goose bumps running along her skin with the pleasant memories.

"Here we go," She muttered to herself, under her breath as she entered the hall. It was simply breathtaking, filled with all sorts of men and women dressed in extravagant costumes with masks matching them perfectly. She did notice quite the amount of black gowns, and smiled. Good, it would be easy to blend in.

She quickly located a clock, and smiled. She had about two hours to socialize, and then she needed to make her move.

A young man with a tray walked by, carrying glasses of champagne. She quickly took a glass, sipping its contents as she looked around the room. She needed to find either Carson or Wayne before those two hours were up. Follow them around, flirt a bit. She needed them when those two hours were up; it was part of the plan.

She took a graceful seat (on something more comfortable than she could imagine), and swirled her finger around the top of the glass, eyes scouting closely.

"You look focused," Somebody came from behind her, making her jump, spilling a spot of champagne on her gorgeous dress. She almost looked up to glare at the man, until something undeniably familiar made her stop. He took one of the empty chairs next to her, and flashed a charming smile, "Am I interrupting?"

She smirked sweetly, and placed out her hand expectantly, "You could never interrupt me, darling." She told him, eyes locking onto his. They were dark green, his mask a plain black. His suit looked expensive, and she wanted to slide her hands along the lapels to feel the material.

"Glad to hear it," He smiled once more, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles lightly eyes never leaving hers, "May I have the pleasure of hearing your name?" He asked her.

She tore her eyes away from his lips, noting that he had a marvelous jaw, "Hm, what does that mean I get in return?" She teased, taking her hand from his fingers gently. He had a scar on the top of his hand, but she didn't mention it.

"Is my name not a fair trade?" He asked, ready to bargain with her, the corners of his mouth lifted in amusement.

"I'm not interested in names." She leaned close, trying to figure out where his eyes were so familiar from.

"What are you interested in?" He asked her, never leaning closer, never showing any kind of inclination towards her teases besides the slight tilt of his lips.

"Want to find out?" She asked him, and was surprised when he put a hand on her shoulder, pushing her back gently. She pouted, disappointed.

"Only if I can get your name, it's killing me. You're familiarity hurts." She smiled, glad it wasn't just her and that she did actually know this man.

"Annette, but most people in Gotham know me as Ann." She smiled a little, and brushed her hair back gently.

"A pleasure Annette, but it does not explain my familiarity with your lovely face." He smiled, but the way he watched her seemed caustious.

"I won't explain until I hear _your_ name." She teased, sliding a finger down his arm.

"Bruce." He said simply, keeping his last name to himself.

"Wayne?" She asked, wondering if her prey had actually fallen right into her lap.

"You didn't give me a last name." He grinned, and she frowned, reaching forward to tilt his mask up. He stopped her hands, and shook one of his fingers at her.

"Now, now Annette. I take off my mask, you take off yours." Mr. Wayne gave her a smile, and she nodded, silently cursing the man. She didn't realize that he was actually smart. She thought the rich like him were supposed to be idiots looking for a good fuck.

"All is fair in love and war, Mr. Wayne." She smiled, her hands retreating.

"So which is this, love or war?" He asked her, eyes steady.

"Why not both?" She lifted her hands, giggling lightly, "Mr. Wayne, if you must know, my last name is Laramie."

"Annette Laramie. Are you French?" He questioned her, and she nodded gently.

"Very, born and raised in France, I moved here when I was 19." French was a good pick, she had been taking it at the Academy before she was kidnapped (though she wasn't really kidnapped more, since she stayed willingly now). She wasn't even the slightest bit French, though. German and Irish blood ran through her veins.

"Ah, la France est un bel endroit." She let the surprise show on her face, smiling brightly as she nodded, acting as if she were glad for another speaker. (_Ah, France is a beautiful place.) _

"Oh, Monsieur Wayne! Vous parler, que c'est beau." (_Oh, Mr. Wayne! You speak it, that's lovely.) _

"Not much, just enough to get around." He smiled bashfully, and she placed a hand on her chest to giggle.

"More than any other man I've met in Gotham can." A new song started up, with a fast pace, and she stood, reaching out her hand. "I'm afraid you've teased me long enough, now I would like to dance."

He smiled, and stood, placing his flat palm against her lower back as he escorted her to the floor. Couples were lining up, all anonymous faces that she didn't care a bit about. She didn't care about the rich idiot in front of her either, but more about the fact that nobody would stop them once she had Gotham's richest man under her knife. It wasn't as if he'd be able to protect himself either, she'd have at least four other men with guns backing her up.

They assumed the position for the dance, her hands gripping him gently, his hands resting on her waist. He had huge hands, she couldn't help but notice.

Then came the dance, almost like a fight, with the way they both fought for control. Though he was in the position of the man, he had to fight to lead with every step she took. Her confidence was overwhelming, her posture perfect, and the tight smile on her face teasing.

She would take unannounced steps; add a twist into the dance that shouldn't be there, anything to make the man falter. He never stepped out of line, perfect and true to each move that was originally choreographed to the tune. She smiled, wondering how he was so abiding. He had no flair in his steps, not swing in his hips.

She took a turn, holding her head high as the skirt flared out in a circle as she did, before resuming the perfect position.

"I take it you like to dance," He told her, and she tilted her head back to laugh.

"Do you not?" She questioned, moving closer to him. He didn't lose his calm, he just watched her with those eyes. Something about them…

Her thoughts stopped as he replied, "Not exactly, but who am I to deny a beautiful woman?"

She smiled, and kept dancing, kept disobeying the rules of the music and the laws of the dance. He never faltered. She was becoming frustrated with their game, but didn't let up until the dance ended.

They paused on the floor, a small round of applause after the song. The band members took no note of the applause, and continued on to something slower, a calming song.

"You would be a great dancer, if you followed the rules." She smiled, and brushed her hair behind her neck as she looked up to him.

"That's never any fun, Mr. Wayne. Stepping out of line makes life exciting." They settled their hands into new positions for the waltz, and danced slower together this time. She stayed true to the dance, smiling, and eyes on his the whole time. Why couldn't she figure out his eyes?

"You have remarkable eyes, Miss Laramie." She blushed a little under the compliment, and stood straighter.

"And you, as well, Mr. Wayne." They danced, sweetly, bodies close, and she kept

The clock struck on the hour, and she stood straight up, looking onto the clock. It was nine already? She groaned, smiling at Bruce, beginning to drag him towards the stage.

"Something wrong, Ann?" Bruce asked her, following her to the stage.

"It's nothing, Bruce. I just have to make a quick appearance on stage." She was already climbing the steps onto the stage.

"Why am I coming?" He still followed her, complying with her orders. The band kept playing, though some were giving her odd looks. She had her clutch open, ready to grab the knife when she could. How was nobody watching the stage? She rolled her eyes, stepping quickly to the microphone, waiting for the song to end. Bruce stood back a bit, a few feet away, still with a dashing smile, but this time nervous.

"It's a surprise," She whispered, and winked towards him. The singer backed up, and she stood brilliantly on the stage, eyes alight in happiness.

She tapped the microphone once, flinching as she realized it was so loud, "Oops," She told the audience innocently, who let out a low chuckle. Except for the one woman in the back of the room, who had been annoyingly drunk the whole time, and let out a screeching cackle.

"As you know, this ball is for a wonderful cause. It's a pleasure seeing you all here tonight, and so eager to help the less fortunate of Gotham." She continued, and paused as a few in the crowd clapped, and she gave a beautiful flash of perfectly straight teeth, "One of the prime donators to this charity, is Bruce Wayne," She motioned to the man standing behind here, and he gave her a small glare, but the crowd a smile. The Joker had researched, and told her all about the thousands he had wasted on the stupid charity, "Bruce, would you mind speaking a few words? We all look up to you so much; it would almost be a crime not to." The crowd chuckled, even though she hadn't really said anything funny, and gave a clap of encouragement to Bruce.

He shot her a look, and stepped up to the microphone, chuckling under his breath, "My friend here didn't really give me any kind of hint that I was going to speak tonight." He began, but before he could say anything he felt the knife against his throat. She could tell his first instinct was to fight, by the way his muscles tensed up, but in front of the crowd now, all he could do was stay still.

"Mind lowering that for me, Mr. Wayne? I'm a deal shorter than you." She nodded to the microphone, which he moved to her willingly.

"You aren't French, are you?" He asked her with clenched teeth, and she let out a laugh that sounded like childhood innocence and bells.

She didn't respond, but instead untied his mask, and watched it fall to the ground before him.

"Gotham, masks off. Now." The tone in which she spoke was so devilishly commanding that not one person dared to disobey, and an array of masks fluttered to the floor, "Good citizens," She laughed once more, and tightened her hold on Bruce, "Now, my friends are going to get some papers while we stand here and wait. All right?" People nodded, but nobody spoke outright, "I said, _all right_?" A number of muttered yeses were said, and she smiled. A few men in tuxes pulled out guns, and a few more left the room. One had his gun trained on Bruce, the rest of the suits were along the walls, making sure nobody got out.

She clicked off the microphone, waiting with a small smile, while she whispered in his ears, "Surprised, Mr. Wayne?"

"Unfortunately my guard was let down for criminals, tonight." She laughed in his ear, and tightened her hold even more.

"Technically, I'm not a criminal yet. I haven't even been in prison before." She smiled, watching as the men marched out with crates of papers. Public records, census records, all of it.

"You will be soon." He told her, and she felt his muscles wind up for an attack. She pushed the knife deeper, to where it drew a line of shallow blood.

"Ah, Mr. Wayne, I'd be careful. I'm in the position of power at the moment, wouldn't want to make me angry, would we? Besides, these men know the plan. If I get hit, they start shooting into the crowd. Wouldn't want to let any innocents get hurt, would we?" She slid her thumb down his jaw, keeping her knife firmly in place.

"You're so familiar, it makes me wonder." The back of him wasn't what was familiar, though, it was his eyes, "Those eyes, I've seen them before. Not just on television."

"Plenty of people have green eyes." He told her, and she smiled, pressed up close behind him.

"None have eyes as attentive and calculating as yours, or so I've noticed." She watched him from behind, getting an air of nervousness from him, "Feeling nervous, Mr. Wayne? No matter, I'm leaving soon. Maybe later I'll understand where you're from later." She smiled, and pulled back the knife from his throat.

Before he had much of a chance to do anything, she used the hilt of the knife to hit him in the temple. He slumped to the floor, and she smiled, before the crowd gasped.

"Oh shut up, you whimpering idiots." She yelled out the crowd, who automatically shut their lips. She bent her legs, digging into his pockets, pulling out his wallet. What man carries around this many twenties? She rolled her eyes, pocketing them into the clutch, and climbing down the stage, checking the clock. 9:56, perfect. She marched out, but not before turning around to the crowd.

The men moved out behind her, and when the last one was out, she held the handle of the doors carefully, and flashed another smile, "I suggest getting out as soon as you can. City Hall is gonna blow in about…" She trailed off, checking an imaginary watch, "Whenever I get out of here." She grinned, slamming the door shut, watching as one of the thugs pushed metal beam through the handles, effectively locking it. People automatically started banging the doors, trying to open it. Muffled screams broke through the door, and a few cries of help. She rolled her eyes, taking a gun as somebody handed it to her.

She bounded down the front steps, past the two guards, who quickly moved to stop her. Somebody behind her shot them both, and they fell to the ground. Sirens were sounding around the corner, and she yanked off her shoes, dropping them both on the staircase as she took off to the white van waiting out front. As she climbed into the back along with a few thugs she didn't know, she noticed the young man who had taken her keys earlier from her, on the ground, with gash on his head.

As they took of down the streets, she couldn't help but feel odd. There was once a time where she felt sympathy for the dead. Now she couldn't help but feel like they deserved it.

She climbed past the thugs, and hopped into the passenger seat next to Mikey, and gave him a smile.

"I guess we can just hope things go as well on the Joker's end." She told him, and kept her eyes behind her, wondering why the cops in this town were so terrible.

"Knowing the Boss, it'll be a hoot." He replied, sarcastically. And she laughed.

Giggling, they took off to the Narrows, cutting corners and breaking speed limits. Her laughter followed them into the night, and on the other side of town, another man's laughter penetrated the glum air of Gotham while making his own getaway.

They were a pair, now. Nothing was going to get in their way, not even Batman.

**AN: Wow. Long chapter is long. I really liked this one. I hope you guys did too, it was fun to write. Please don't forget to give me some comments on it, guys. I worked hard. I know you're out there. Don't hide from me. :)**

**Highlander348: ****I thought about it, a lot. I actually rewrote this chapter, so it could be possible. It's still in consideration, but now the option is open. Thanks for your review, I appreciate it. **


	13. Chapter 13

**M FOR A REASON, KIDDOS. **

Chapter 13

The Joker had arrived back at the apartments only moments after she had, directing the thugs to carry the crates of papers that they had stowed away in their respective cars.

In the van she had gotten away in, there were crates upon crates of public, and citizen records. They all told who lived here, who did what, how many people were in Gotham. Basically, the records that kept taxes right, and school systems running correctly.

In the Joker's, were so many police records it was almost impossible to believe. He had gotten all the most important cases; the boys had gone directly for the stuff locked up.

Since Gotham was so horribly behind, Joker knew that almost none of these papers were uploaded on the systems. This made them perfect confetti for the Thanksgiving Parade in two days. But first, they had to shred all that damned paper.

While the thugs were transporting everything into the small home, Rye and the Joker watched side by side while they did. She leaned slightly against his chest, and he had an arm slinked around her waist possessively.

"You look _smashing_ in a dress," He leaned down to whisper in her ear, while she held giggles, "Though you look considerably better with nothing on." He exaggerated his words greatly, making her blush in front of the men who were sending curious glances, "The things I want to do to you," He trailed off, nibbling her ear as he leaned, making her blush a brighter red and send a nervous glance at the men. Goose bumps rose on her arms, and she bit her lip tentatively, giving him a small glare as she tried to step back.

All he did was slink his other arm around her, forcing her hips close to his. He nuzzled his cheek against hers, scars smooth against her skin. "Can you not do this now, in front of them?" She asked, though was practically melting.

He burst into a deep-bellied chortle, enjoying the embarrassment she was suffering under his touch and words. She tried to push him away, but his fingers tightened around her waist, where she knew there would be bruises tomorrow.

She let out a small gasp of pain, looking up to him with a tight-lipped glare.

"Why so serious, doll_face_?" He asked her, bending over as he dove into a kiss, untying the mask she was wearing as he did so. The mask fell into the alley, and she groaned into his mouth.

"I _liked_ that mask." She whispered onto his lips. He pulled from her, glancing at the mask on the ground, and then sighed, motioning for her to pick it up. She bent down, her fingers grabbing the mask.

Before she stood again, she felt his hands around her waist, lifting her over his shoulder so that her butt was sticking high up into the air. She squealed in surprise, squirming to get her way down.

"Joker!" She yelled at him, frowning deeply.

He only responded with a hard smack against her bottom, to which she squealed again, "Stop!" She yelled, even as he bounded up the stairs. She could feel the men's eyes on her, even as she tried to wriggle her war out of the hold.

Even though she was being thrown onto the bed rather roughly, she couldn't help but let out giggles. She was having fun, more fun than she'd ever had before. One night already held the adventure of a life time.

He climbed onto the bed with her, and she backed up, with a wide smirk before jumping off the bed. She squealed as he lunged for her, but missed as she bounded across the room to lock the door. He followed after her, and she slid around him quickly, pulling up the skirt of the full length dress.

"Get _back_ here!" He yelled to her, and she giggled, climbing across the bed. He lunged for her, gripping her ankle, and dragged her across the covers.

The anger in his voice sent chills up her spine, and she bit her lip in anticipation. Her heart flutter as he rolled her onto her back, placing kisses across her chest and stomach.

"You're mine." He laughed, and she moved her hips, biting her lip. He trailed a finger down her abdomen, and slowly over that sweet spot between her legs. He rubbed delicately, teasingly, and she bucked her hips up for more.

She groaned in frustration, gripping his tie to pull him forward for a kiss, and he smacked her hands away and shook her finger, "Tsk, tsk Rye, don't make me tie you up." She smiled lightly, wishing that's exactly what he'd do.

He pushed up the dress, and before so knew it, her panties were laying on the floor, and his breath was on her inner thighs. His fingers and tongue moved everywhere, teasing, but not where she wanted it. She gripped his hair in her fingers, pulling him closer to her while she did her breath not to scream out.

He moved his fingers skillfully in and out of her, his tongue mercilessly attacking that wonderful and pleasurable bundle of nerves. She grinded against him, with short breaths, and his name hissing between her teeth.

He pulled back, and she whimpered, trying to pull him closer to her again. He slid open her thighs wider, and despite the incredible feeling of self-consciousness, she moved closer to him, "Please," She groaned out, and he laughed.

He removed his tie, his shirt and jacket off soon after, revealing that marvelously toned and scarred torso. She wanted to slide her fingers along every one, and kiss away any memories they might hold.

Her thoughts were cut short as he took his place between her legs again, and she was once more drowning in pleasure, her gasps growing shorter as her muscles tensed up.

She tightened her hold on him, and stopped for one moment while she felt incredible release, and she moaned his name, marveling in how his scars brushing against her inner thigh made the whole thing better for those glorious seconds.

He was up, pulling her close while she helped slip her dress over her head. She took off the bra, while he dropped his pants, both frantic for more to come.

When he finally got off the pants, he sat on the bed, lifting her into his lap. He buried his face in her chest, licking and sucking every inch of skin that was there. She moaned, moving her hips against his slowly, teasing him.

He lifted her hips, and brought them down in one thrust, her breath in his ear, arms wrapped around him desperately. Her moans sounded in the room, bouncing off the walls.

He had one hand laced in her long hair, still curled from the masquerade earlier tonight and messed from the play they were partaking in, the other arm was set steadily on her hip to direct her as she began to move on top of him, a fast pace that brought new moans to her lips with each thrust.

His scars brushed against her sensitive skin, his tongue finding its way expertly around her while they continued. Her nails dug deeper into his skin, among other half-healed crest marks she had made before.

He leaned up, using his hand to push her head down for a kiss, so passionate and heated that both of them forgot how to breathe.

They're heartbeats synced, beating like they were one person, they're breaths ragged and all over the place. Her moans sounded out, filled with his name, and satisfied gasps. His grunts laced occasionally with her voice.

Her pleasure built up once more, and she had to break the kiss as she let out a long, deep throated moan into his ear, breath sliding down his neck while her muscles clenched tightly around him.

It was enough to make him reach as well, her peak causing his, while they sat still for a long moment, muscles clenching in waves together.

Slowly, they relaxed against each other, and he leaned against her chest, while she rests her head on his. They breathed heavily, and he let out quiet laughs.

She thought, absently, that at one point his laughter might have made her go crazy, worry about her appearance, and cower away. But now, she couldn't even imagine something like this any other way.

He lifted her off of him with ease, and she quietly marveled at his strength, as she had never expected that. He laid her on the bed, and followed after her, sliding his body against hers.

Neither of them minded that they were both slick with sweat, and she had face paint in places she was sure would take forever to get out, nor did they even both with the blankets.

They both stayed still, eyes slowly closing, content with the simplicity of lying with each other.

And both especially content with the chaos they had caused outside.

**AN: Filler, filler, filler. At least there were a few important plot points in there, right? Next chapter you guys will get to see a bit more of what the Joker had done, but I won't be writing a full play-by-play of it. I really appreciate your reviews, makes me a super happy person, and it definitely fuels me to move faster for you. I'm constantly getting my inspiration from like, a billion places, but sitting down and actually writing the chapter takes more than just seeing that the views have gone up by ten. Reviews are what I need. They help me, and in the long run they might even help you.**

**REVIEW REPLIES: **

**Highlander348:**** Thanks! I'm glad you're liking it. I love that you review every chapter. It makes me seriously happy. If you happen to have any ideas or special moments (besides the capture of Batman :P) you'd like to see, feel free to PM me and maybe we can talk about it a bit. **

**Kindleflame5: ****Thank you, happy you're enjoying it! I'm thinking about having her torture somebody, but I'm a little worried it might turn off some people from the story. I know some won't like this chapter for the content; I'm worried I might scare even more people off with crazily intense violence. **


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

"Last night, at approximately 10pm, the Joker and his female accomplice Ryanna Swift made off with thousands of papers regarding the records of Gotham's citizens and criminals. The Joker was able to enter Gotham's main police station unnoticed, and hold Police Commissioner James Gordon hostage, while numerous thugs carried papers concerning court rulings and information on Gotham's most dangerous criminal. We were able to get a word in with Officer Gordon,"

The camera changed scenes.

"The Joker is known for his elaborate schemes, but you shouldn't fear him. Gotham is safe."

"Citizens of Gotham are saying if he could breach the station, then he could get anywhere he wanted. What do you have to say about this?"

"The only reason he was able to reach me is because our concern is fully for the citizens. If we were to fortify the station, then nobody would be there to protect Gotham."

The camera returned to a woman.

"While the Joker was occupying the downtown police station, Ryanna Swift was at the benefit masquerade ball. She was able to fight her way in, and used the same tactic as the Joker. She held Bruce Wayne hostage in front of the unsuspecting crowd, while hired men took census records along with historic documents."

The camera changed.

"_I said, all right?" _

Murmured yeses throughout the crowd. A quick speed up of the tape. Bruce Wayne tumbling to the floor.

The camera returned.

"Ryanna Swift, only 17 when the Joker kidnapped her from Anadelm Private School, has appeared to have been corrupted by the Joker in her short weeks with him. Citizens have taken to calling her the Jester, her mask which was covered in blood-red cobwebs, has appeared to become her symbol, already in thousands of pictures across the internet."

A picture of Rye's smiling face, red lipstick, red mask.

"Her father has refused to be interviewed any longer, and has retired from his job as a prison guard. All we can do now is hope that the Batman, and the GCPD, will be able to catch these criminals before they can do any real damage to Gotham or the people in it."

_oOo_

Rye smiled, curling around the Joker on the couch. He grinned down at her, sliding a finger across her cheek.

He wasn't wearing a shirt, even though there were many men upstairs in the office, shredding the thousands of documents they had stolen.

She was wearing a button-up shirt of his, little hexagons all over. Her hair was in a tangle still, from the night before. Neither of them had really bothered to do anything today, thank goodness. Her feet were surprisingly sore from the night in heels. As good as she looked in them, she rarely wore them.

"My little Jester," He laughed, and stroked her hair from her face, and she turned, laying her head on his lap.

"Does that mean since you're the Clown Prince of Crime, that I'm the Clown Princess?" She smiled, and he laughed again.

"Of course," He purred to her, leaning down to give her a kiss.

The only thing hard about the two kissing, was that they both wanted to smile and laugh, and you can't exactly kiss while laughing. Most of the time, like now, they giggled to each other, lips barely touching.

They both looked up when there was a squeak, the last step on the staircase. Benny stood there, awkwardly averting his gaze from her long and naked legs.

"Yeah?" The Joker growled. She had found out last night he didn't like to be interrupted when busy with her. Only minutes after they had fallen asleep last night, Mikey had barged in to tell him something. She was sure he was covered in bruises today.

It wasn't as if she were unmarked though, and he either. Crescent cuts from her finger nails, which she had painted red today, were scattered along his back. On her, were bruises shaped like fingers across her legs, and hips, and even a few on her neck. She had hickeys all over, and didn't even really remember the process of getting them all. She smiled, remembering the satisfying feeling of his arms around hers.

"We're done." Benny told him, and the Joker sighed, and looked at him expectantly.

"And?" Benny shifted, making the last step squeal once more.

"What do you want us to do with it all?" Benny asked, and risked a glance at the bruises on her legs, and with a confused look towards their closeness on the couch, then back to the Joker's face.

"Load it all into trashbags."

"And… throw it away?"

"No, you idiot, we need it for the next part of the plan."

"Oh, g-got it boss." Benny retreated upstairs, nervously.

"You're so mean to them," She scolded him a little, watching how his mood turned sour so quickly.

"They're scum." He told her simply. She eyed him confusedly, wondering what was so different between them and him, he sighed and elaborated, "They kill for money. I kill for fun. If I was doing all," He motioned around him as if all his crimes were on display, "_this_ for money, I would be scum too. But no, I do it because people deserve it. It's what I was made for."

"You were made for killing?" She meant it as a statement, but it came out as a question.

He eyed her with anger, "Were you not listening? I was made to show people the truth."

She nodded quickly, agreeing, "Got it."

He laughed at her fear, and smiled, "You, my dear one, were made for a very different purpose."

She eyed him quizzically, "What for?"

"To follow." He answered, grinning, and she sat up.

Her eyes were filled with anger, and she shot him a glare, "I don't _follow_." Her voice was growling, and his quiet laughter made her angry.

"You do, otherwise you would be the planner and I would be the follower. Don't fret, sweetcheeks, most humans are followers." She stood, and frowned at him, leaning down.

She wasn't very threatening, from her small stature and the fact that she was wearing almost no clothing, but still her words rolled with anger.

"I do _not follow anyone_." She punctuated each one of her words with a new wave of venom and malice, before turning and bounding up the stairs.

"Where are you going?" He called up to her, feeling no need to get up and coddle her worries away.

"I'm gonna go kill somebody." She called down to him, and his laughter haunted the thugs in the next room.

"She's growing up," the Joker muttered under his breath.

_oOo_

Now that she was actually out of the house, she wasn't sure if she wanted to kill anybody anymore. It was just getting dark now; she'd been out for a few hours already. Some part of her hoped the Joker would come looking for her, but she knew he wouldn't. He was the Joker; he wouldn't make any attempts to sympathize unless it was sarcastic.

She was wearing a sweet little black dress, a sort of cocktail dress. Its straps slid onto her arms, and she felt lovely in it. She could really get used to dressing up, she felt sexy every time she did.

She slid her fingers across the mask, which had become her icon overnight, along with the red lipstick. Apparently, companies were already trying to market the pattern the same way they did with the Joker's hexagon patterned shirt. Rye giggled and slid her hands down her waist. People were ridiculous.

She hummed, trailing her fingers along an old brick building, and leaned against it, rolling her feet in the red heels. She should get used to them, they didn't look back.

Somebody to her left whistled, and laughter followed it. She growled, her hand absently patting the knife strapped to her thigh.

"Hey, baby. You wanna party with some real men?" They called to her, and she smiled, avoiding the knife just yet. She turned to them, her face concealed by the darkness.

"Hell yeah, big boy. Come on over here," She motioned for him with her fingers, while exaggerating her hip movements in her retreat in the alley.

"I'm not paying you for shit." Somebody else called out, even as the loudest of the group moved into the alley.

It was pitch black, the only thing visible was her vague outline. She had the knife concealed behind her back now, while four men slowly poured into the alley.

"I have no need for money. I just want _you_." She purred, shimmying her hips to an imaginary dance, lips pressed out in a slight mouth.

All her eyes said were, _Come closer._

Two men moved to her, and one openly reached out for her, all of them openly leering after her body, "And you can have all of me," The one closest to her called.

"I'd love to," She moved close to him, kissing his cheek swiftly, before reaching out and slitting his throat.

His body dropped, and the three men watched her, horrified.

"Oops," She mumbled, poking her knife gently into a dimple as she smiled, "Did I do that?"

"Fuckin' bitch killed Maguel." The man who hadn't said anything charged towards her, and she twisted away to doge a punch to her stomach.

"It's not like I _meant _to." She laughed, and ducked under his arm to stab directly into his chest, watching as he gurgled, drowning in his own blood.

Another man charged for her, and she let him grab her dangerously, his hand against her neck.

"You god damned whore, who the fuck are you?" She giggled, and stabbed his lower belly, using that to propel him back against the wall.

"Some call me the Jester," She kissed his cheek, leaving a red lipstick mark just as she had on the other man, right before he slumped dead.

The man who had reached for her stood dumbfounded, before he took off running, eyes streaming with tears.

"Coward!" She called to him, only moving to the end of the alley way. He wasn't worth chasing. Not when she was in heels.

She leaned down to kiss the second man she'd killed, a red pair of lips left on his cheeks.

"Too easy," She mumbled, strolling out of the alley after wiping her blade free of blood on one of the anonymous men.

Something landed in the street across from her, and she startled, looking up.

She'd recognize that distinctive mask anywhere, and smiled right at him, "Oh, Batman, you're too late to save the day!"

He walked closer to her, staying just out of the streetlight, which she stayed directly under. The spotlight made her look like some sort of movie star, and she adored it.

"Ryanna, you don't need to do this. We can get you the help you need." His rough voice breached her ears, and she frowned.

"Did you eat brillo pads as a child, Batty?" She asked him, making a face of disgust, before strapping the knife back to her thigh, unafraid to pull up her dress in front of him.

"You aren't like the Joker." He told her.

"No, I'm not."

"Then why do this?"

She pursed her lips in thought, and smiled, shrugging, "I was angry."

"Did your plan not work?"

"OH no, those were much better than originally planned. Bruce Wayne was such a sucker," Somehow she was able to catch his fists clench, "Idiot," She scolded Bruce as if he were there, "It's like his only brains are his cock."

"You were masked," He told her, and she looked up to him, motioning him forward.

"Wanna hear a secret?" She asked him, stepping closer, smiling as she watched him move into the streetlight.

That was Batman's biggest mistake. She knew then, knew everything. The information dawned on her slowly, blue eyes locking with green, while she slowly smiled.

She leaned into him, whispering into his ear.

"I know who you are," One of her fingers slid down his jaw while his body went rigid, "And it was so easy to find out," She giggled, her voice without mercy, "You stupid dolt."

His hand was on her neck faster than she could think, and she just cackled in laughter, "I'll kill you," He told her, and she only smiled.

"You don't kill. It's your _rule_." He was trapped, totally and completely, and she just smiled.

"What do you want?" He set her down, breath heavy.

"Nothing yet, really." She inspected her nails, like they were the most interesting thing in the world, and he was just some speck of dust in front of her, "Oh, and don't worry, this is our secret. I won't tell anybody."

She paused, and smiled, adding on, "Not yet." Trailing her finger up his arm, she clicked her tongue, and smiled, "For now, we can pretend I don't know. You can go on fighting crime."

He watched her, with what she thought was fear.

She turned, growling at him, "I said, _you can go_."

With that, Batman turned into darkness, melting with the night, while her cackles haunted him.

She hummed, and skipped her way home. She wouldn't tell anybody, no. That would ruin all the fun. This was her game, not the Joker's. She would show him she was no follower. She clenched her fists, hums abruptly stopping.

She will show them all.

**AN: Yay! She figured him out! How exciting! Who knows what she'll do next? We'll have to wait and see. Do remember, my sweet readers, that your reviews fuel me. The more reviewers, the sooner I update. Keep that in mind. It bugs me how many views I get on chapters, and how little reviews I get. The reviews help so much. They are seriously the only reason I keep updating. **

**REVIEW REPLIES**

**Guest:**** Glad you like it. Keep on keepin' on. **


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

**AN: Woah, chapter 15? This is really getting somewhere, isn't it? And the only reason why are my lovely, lovely reviewers. You guys rock. **

The next two days passed by surprisingly fast. Rye and the Joker didn't see much of each other in that time, they were both busy with their own thoughts and plans.

The Joker, with the laughable prank he was going to pull in a few hours at the Thanksgiving Parade.

Rye, with Batman. Or should she say Bruce Wayne? Maybe she'd pay him a visit later, that'd be real funny.

She didn't want to reveal him to the public like the Joker has always wanted. Why would she? He would, and probably will, do many things for her. Maybe the first would be to show her his arsenal. What she'd do to get her hands on some of his gear…

"Rye-Anna!" The Joker's voice popped her out of her thoughts, as it had so often before. She frowned, standing up from the spot she was doodling at the kitchen table, and jogged up the stairs into the office.

It was a total wreck. There was shredded paper _everywhere._ The amount of it actually scared, did they have that much paper in the beginning? She shook her head, and leaned against the doorway, sweats hanging off her hips.

"Yeah?" She asked him, watching as he stood and held out his arms, which made her giggle. He was covered in shreds of the paper, and she had to bite her tongue to hold in laughter.

"We need your help." He told her, before spinning to the thugs who had stopped their work behind him, "Keep going, you idiots, we need this all packed up in an hour.

"More distractions?" She asked, wondering if that was all she was ever going to do.

"No, just start stuffing this damned paper with I make phone calls."

She didn't say anything else, and took his spot while she stuff plastic bags full of the strips of white stuff. She wrinkled her nose, and looked at the thugs, blinking, "Don't you guys ever listen to music?"

They stopped, and Mikey shrugged, "Nobody ever thought about that before, I guess."

One of the new thugs, whose name she didn't know, spoke up in an accent she couldn't place, "A lie, I thought of it."

"Then how come you didn't say anything?"

"Because I didn't want to deal with shit-"

"BOYS." Rye stepped in, bending over to a radio on the desk, "Stop it, you're annoying."

They listened, and kept stuffing paper, while she fiddled with the damn radio. The thing wasn't turning on.

"Uh, boss-"

"Shut up, Benny, I can figure it out."

Mikey cut in, "Jester, the radio isn't-"

"I said shut up!" She growled, rubbing her temple once, and taking a deep breath before pressing the power button again.

The machine had the audacity to not turn on.

She promptly punched it, like the damned thing deserved.

Everybody watched as it went flying across the room, and landed on the floor, power cord unplugged.

The men burst into giggles, and she snapped them a glare, which only served to make them laugh for.

"Fucking technology," She muttered under her breath, plugging the thing in and switching it to one of her favorite stations. Alice in Chains began playing, and she smiled, stuffing paper once more.

"Is this Alice in Chains?" The new thug asked.

"Yes."

"Aren't you a little young to listen to bands like this?" Rye gave him an angry look, and frowned.

"Aren't you a little old to know who they are? I thought people like you listened to Louis Armstrong." The new kid shifted his weight, stuffing paper a bit harder now.

"You little shit," He muttered under his breath, but it was in the wrong moment. The song had just ended and she heard him perfectly.

Rye stood, placing a hand on her hip, and smiled sweetly at him, "What's your name, baby?" Her tone took on something between sweet and seductive, and her eyes gave him a look that Benny and Mikey had come to associate with anger.

"Ralph," The man said, eyes drooping down to her hips, and the small bit of skin that was exposed between her tank top and sweats.

"And you know what my name is?" She moved closer to him, eyes trailing up from his feet and back to his eyes. She licked her lips.

"Ryanna?" It was obviously meant as a statement, but his voice went up just enough at the end to make it a question.

She punched his right eye with more force than her tiny body should be able to hold.

"Try again." She smiled at him, same sickly-sweet tone.

"The fuck!" He put his hand on his eye, afraid to strike her back, trying his best to restrain himself.

She used the heel of her palm to hit his nose, which was now bleeding profusely. She'd broken it.

"Nope."

"Who the fuck d'you think you are?" He asked her, cocking back a fist.

Ryanna grinned, and quipped, "The Jester of course! And you better learn that, the sooner the better." She put her chin in her palm, studying him once more, and then smiling, she kissed his cheek and left a red print of her lips.

Ralph rubbed it off.

Every news channel in Gotham had been saying that if you had that mark on your cheek, you were as good as dead. He wasn't going to be one of them.

Benny gave Rye a lost look, and she patted his cheek on the way back to her small station, stuffing the paper back into the plastic bag.

She winked to Benny, who had become something of an older brother to her.

He smiled at her, and shook his head with a grin, stuffing another handful of the shredded paper into the trash bag.

_oOo_

It got fucking _cold_ in Gotham in the mornings. Well, the fact that she was wearing yet another cocktail dress didn't help. But she liked it, it made her feel fancy, and she knew she had the body to pull it off.

The only man who had been able to resist her so far was Bruce Wayne, and even he hadn't been able to when he didn't know her identity.

She adjusted her mask, and rubbed her shoulders once more; looking at the float they were supposed to hide on.

It was a stupid, giant turkey. It was so tasteless, and it was still the entire center of the parade. She rubbed her hands together, and moved onto the little step ladder into the turkeys fat little body.

The Joker was already in there, of course, as he had to take care the mayor and his wife. They were tied up on the floor, gagged, eyeing them with fear.

This float, through the parade, would explode with what _should_ have been colored confetti. Instead, as the Joker and Rye had so kindly fixed it, it would be shooting out the documents of Gotham's finest and worst.

She took the last step down, and looked up curiously. This platform was supposed to rise once they got going, but she didn't trust the thing, technology was really being a bitch today.

_oOo_

The float took off not too much later, and she checked her appearance carefully. So many pictures were going to be taken of her; she just had to look good. She adjusted her mask, watching the Joker give a swift kick to the mayor. He laughed, and she giggled, as the mayor shot a glare towards her.

Before she could say much, the platform began to rise, and confetti started bursting. At first there were cheers, and all kinds of them, until people saw the Joker and the Jester, back to back.

The Joker was grinning, looking something like an overly-friendly shark, and waving at the children. In their innocence, they waved back.

The Jester began to blow kisses to anyone who looked her in the eye. They sent instant fear through every person she directed them to, and she knew why. It was her mark, the same as the lacerated smile was the Joker's.

Happiness soon turned to terror in the crowd, but they both kept up their façade, like they were the most important citizens in Gotham and everybody was happy to see them. In a way they were, since they could probably blow up the city if they wanted.

She smiled, waiting for Batman to show up. She knew he would. Bruce would be here.

She was right about the picture thing, and each time a news camera came near, she would blow them a kiss, followed by a silky wave. She was enjoying the attention. In her old life, attention only happened if she messed up. Nobody noticed her before.

Everybody knew her now.

Something landed on the turkey's head, in a flurry of black, before climbing up the easy steps to the platform on top of the dumb things hat.

"Oh, Batman!" She ran an arm down his face, and pushed him to the Joker, who promptly pushed him off the float.

He tumbled to the floor, and they both laughed, like a couple of school bullies that just knocked over some kids lunch. A really big kids lunch. A big kid who was dressed like a bat.

He soon began climbing up once more, and she shook her head to him, mouthing the word, "_No."_

And he listened, he stopped climbing, and ran off into the screaming crowd. The float was beginning to slow down, and she turned to the Joker, who watched her cautiously. She kissed him hard on the mouth.

There. That should qualm any suspicions for now.

Cameras flashed, and she pulled away, wiping her mouth free of any white face-paint. She hated that crap. It tasted horrible, and got everywhere.

Soon after Batman attacked, the police began to push their way through the crowd. Joker smiled, and nodded to her.

She climbed down to the driver's seat in this little car. How had he not noticed they were up there yet? She kissed his cheek, and she used a small knife to slit his throat, before he could really move to do anything or scream.

Once she opened the door, his body tumbled out of the float, and into the middle of the street. She took his seat in front of the wheel, and experimentally revved the giant turkey. _Oh, boy, this was going to be fun. _

She shifted gears, and slammed her foot on the peddle, shooting the entire turkey forward into the car in front of them. She slammed on the brake, looking for a side street. She found one, blocked by people, but she turned anyway. Most of them got out of the way. Maybe.

She slammed off towards Gotham's docks, her foot never leaving the floor and never even touching the brake.

She could hear the Joker laughing, and could hear the sirens of the police cars fading away.

They had done it. They had made their getaway in a giant turkey, even as the confetti lined their path.

And a bone-chilling sound, so filled with malice, of two voices in glee forcing themselves into any ears close enough to listen. The sound, so sweet to the both of them, was their combined laughter in the air.

**AN: Woo! Finally! What's up with Batman, guys? He's gotta take care of Rye somehow? He can't kill her, so maybe he'll… oh wait. I can't tell you. :D **

**REVIEW REPLIES**

**Kindleflame5:**** Rye definitely is a wild spirit, but she does have a bit of a submissive side, but good like trying to get her to admit it. She'd probably give you a sweet little kiss on the cheek. Thanks for the review, I will definitely stay awesome. I hope. **

**WinterRain36:**** Rye has no ideas that the Batcave even exists! She might follow through with her thoughts of visiting him at home though, that'd be an interesting chapter, wouldn't it?**

**CandiLand95:**** Me gusta que te gusta. **

** . :**** They do, don't they? I'm glad you like the red lipstick marks, after I posted I realized it's been done before. But oh well, it adds a lot to her character. She tends to use her body to get her prey where she wants them, and that's what makes her unique as a villain. Keep reviewing! **

**Highlander348:**** Batman is definitely worried. Maybe we should call him Bruce? His secret is no longer safe, and he's in the hands of a crazy! Well, she would disagree with the crazy comment, but you know what I mean. Thank you for the reply. **

**AN: Member' guys, the only reason I keep posting is because your reviews fuel me. So. REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW. SHARE SHARE SHARE. AND THEN REVIEW SOME MORE. **


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

"You got a nice setup here, Bats." Rye didn't bother hiding her shocked face as she let herself past Bruce into Wayne Manor. Her eyes watered slightly, and she forced her emotions back down.

He was so lucky, and he didn't even know it. Growing up, she had nothing. Her father had starved himself to get her into school.

Look where she was now.

She shook her head, and bit her lip. _No_, she was most definitely not going to let Batman see her cry over jealously, or over the giant pit of guilt she felt when she thought about how her father must feel. She was all he had left. She had abandoned him, for the Joker.

She hadn't heard Bruce say anything, so she looked up from her studying of the tiles, and blinked curiously, "What?" She asked him, and he actually looked concerned.

"I said, Are you all right?" He asked, confusion making his brows crease together.

"I'm fine, just dwelling on old thoughts." She giggled, even though it was fake, and turned back around to him, smiling, "Surprised to see me?" She held open her arms in a theatrical display.

"Yes, I am." His voice was charming when it wasn't all scratchy, and she smiled, rolling her neck when he asked, "Why are you here?"

"Well, you see, I don't have many places I can be without getting arrested. I'm assuming I'm safe here, unless you plan on throwing me in Arkham, which I feel like you won't do. You know I'm not crazy, I know I'm not crazy." She paused taking a few steps closer, "You know you're Batman, I know you're batman, badda bing-badda boom." She grinned, but jumped when something clashed to the floor.

"O-Oh, Master Wayne, I apologize for interrupting." An older man, with graying hair, bent to clean the tray of lunch he had let clatter to the floor, all the while doing a horrible job of hiding his shock.

"Does he know, Bruce?" She asked him, blinking curiously, and watched as he nodded. She slid a hand along the pocket of her jeans, which housed a knife the Joker had given to her, "So I won't need to be killing him to keep your secret?"

"No." Bruce grit his teeth.

"Then make him leave," She told Batman, with a smile. The man had just finished cleaning what had fallen from the tray.

"Alfred, I'll tell you later." The butler scurried off, down a hallway, after a very weak 'Yes, master Wayne.'

Rye just took off up the grand staircase, Bruce following close after, "You can't just raid my house," He told her, and she turned to glare at him. It instantly shut him up.

Bruce, on some odd level, thought he might actually like the girl who had threatened his life. She was a lot smaller than him, but her personality went through the roof. Maybe it was because she was crazy. He paused in his thoughts, watching her climb up the stairs in jeans and a silky blouse that bounced as she walked. Her hair was in gentle waves, scaling to about halfway down her back.

He shook his head, deciding it wasn't just the personality.

When she reached the second story, she paused for a moment, as if deciding what way to go. She turned right, and paused by the first few doors, which looked entirely uninteresting to her. At a cream-colored door, with a glass handle, she moved in, and squealed once she was inside.

Bruce, worried, followed her into what he knew was an art studio. His mother had loved it, but he had never used it. Most of the supplies were covered in dust, and a few larger easels were covered in white sheets.

Rye looked like she was about to faint, and rushed over to a box labeled paintbrushes. She opened the large container, and removed a white-handled brush, turning to hold it up to Bruce, "Oh my god, it's brand new." She turned, and dug through the supplies, producing oil paints as well as the turpentine to clean the brushes as she worked with them.

She lifted a sheet from a canvas, propped up against a large desk, and set to work. Bruce, surprisingly, took a seat at the desk across the room to watch her.

"You came here to paint." He stated, confused, and watched her.

"No, actually, I came here to raid your arsenal, but that can wait. I've never seen so many supplies. Not even at the school I went to." She cleaned a brush, beating the stiff bristles against the desk.

"You haven't told anybody?" He asked her.

"Accidentally your butler, but he already knew, so I don't see the problem with that." She paused, standing back and eyeing the canvas, before dipping her brush in a dark grey.

"You aren't going to tell anybody?"

"I said I wouldn't, so I won't." She stooped to clean her brush, while Bruce watched her painting, with no idea as to what it was yet.

"Are you planning to?"

"No, probably not. I like having this over you." She told him.

He kept his eye on her, rubbing a face which he really needed to shave, trying to determine the strange feelings he was getting from this girl. They were enemies, for Christ sakes, they should be fighting to the death. He shouldn't be watching her paint with his mother's supplies.

"You like art?" He asked her, and she turned to nod enthusiastically.

"Oh, more than anything in the world, but most of the supplies are pretty expensive." She turned around once more, back to the painting which he had determined to be something crude of a graveyard.

"You went to a private school, don't they provide this?" He asked, and she shrugged.

"They didn't like my art much, too dismal." She sighed a little, and brushed a lock of hair back, making sure not to smear her forehead with paint.

"Why not paint happier things?"

"Are you interviewing me, Bruce?"

"No."

She laughed, and went back to painting, smiling the whole time, "Happy things come with happy inspiration. I've never really been the happiest person."

She could practically hear him thinking, but didn't say anything else while she kept going.

"Why aren't you happy?" He asked her, and she sighed, rubbing her temple in thought.

"My mother died from a horrible car crash, I don't even remember it, but she was alive for a while. Her hospital bills left my dad with horrible debt, which he's still paying off, so we had no money." She paused, blinking back tears, adding something new to the painting, something hanging off the ledge of a gravestone, "The boys there, they would, they would do…" She paused, and took a deep breath, lying just like she had to Crane, "They would tease me, a lot."

Bruce watched, as she added something new, and picked up a nearby pencil, playing with it, "They never did anything else?" He asked, and her hand shook lightly, she created a mistake in what she was painting. She worked around it.

"No." She gritted her teeth, breathing slightly ragged as she put on the final touches of her new painting for a few silent minutes.

Bruce watched her hands shake, the way her muscles clenched, the way she repeatedly wiped at her eyes, "Ryanna-" He began, and she turned, snapping.

"Don't _call_ me that! I'm not her anymore, I'm not! I'm not a victim! I'm not some stupid puppet they can play with!" She chucked the brush directly at Bruce, and he dodged it carefully.

"Calm-" He tried again, cut off one more time.

"Stop it! Stop! I didn't want to!" She threw the glass of paintbrushes at him, which shattered against the wall, "I told them to stop and they didn't!" She threw the glass of turpentine, and it splattered onto Bruce, who stood awkwardly, afraid to say another word, even as she sank to the ground to hold her knees, "A-At least-" she hiccupped, "They didn't take my v-virginity." She laughed, but it wasn't happy. The tone was melancholy, and she was afraid to look up.

She didn't hear him walk over, so she startled when he patted her back quietly, awkwardly, "Things happen sometimes, I can find you the help-" She threw her hand against his cheek so quickly that he wasn't able to avoid it, earning a bright red handprint across his face.

"I don't need _help_," She smiled, wiping the tears away with the back of her hand, and standing up quietly, "I have my own therapeutic methods. Show me your arsenal." Bruce paused. He wasn't going to. She growled at him.

"Bruce, if you know what's good for you and your identity, show me your fucking weapons."

He didn't say anything else, but lead her into a well-furnished room. The room made her angrier, because she didn't think he deserved any of this. He moved towards the piano, and jumped when a cell phone rang. She reached into her pocket, answering.

"Hello?" Somehow she sounded normal over the phone, "Oh, yeah, got it boss. Be back soon. Let me finish up here." She giggled, blushing lightly, "I know, I know; slow and steady gives them time to think about what they've done wrong." Her blush turned into white skin, fear shooting to her fingertips, "Yes, sir. Be home soon." She hung up.

"The Joker?" She gave him an annoyed look.

"Obviously, I need to go. I'll be back later this week." She began her walk to the front door, and paused, "If you touch my painting, I'll kill you. Slowly." Sniffing lightly, she tossed her hair over her shoulder, and shut the door behind her.

_oOo_

Bruce stood quietly in the studio, sipping a small glass of water, mulling over the day he'd spent with Ryanna. She really was something. He'd decided she wasn't crazy.

He had a theory that the reason she killed, is because it was her way of exacting revenge on men. She used her body to attract them; then slaughtered mercilessly, leaving a kiss on their cheek. It sounded like she was out for revenge.

But she could be lying about the whole thing, couldn't she? She did say they hadn't taken her virginity. What exactly had happened? Who did, then? The Joker?

Bruce wrinkled his face in disgust, frowning, and hoping to god that clown didn't touch her. She was so pure when she wasn't angry, so innocent, and so sweet. She was a victim of abuse, not an accomplice of that murdering crazy.

He rubbed his jaw in thought, inspecting the painting she had done in her hours here. It was a graveyard, centered on one tombstone, that said her full name as well as the usual date of birth and death. She had the date of death set for about four years ago, she would have been a freshman.

Atop the tombstone, sat her he assumed as the face was so misty he couldn't tell, with white rose in her fingers. The white rose had a small blotch of black, where she had messed up. Somehow she made it look like the black was consuming the white.

Her figure was so diluted, and shaken, by the white mists that it was a broken outline of her figure.

He frowned. Bruce needed to do some research.

**AN: I'm sure this chapter isn't exactly what all of you were expecting. But don't worry, there are much bigger plans ahead. **

**REVIEW REPLIES**

**CandiLand95:**** Good, if you didn't I might have to hurt you. **

**Highlander348:**** She'll see the Batcave eventually, but for now, her moment to shine will come in other ways. :3 Thank you for your continued feedback. It helps a lot.**

**DoctorWhoRulez****: Good idea, but I may or may not use it. Why sneak around when she can just make him take her there? Options, options. :) But I'm glad you like it, please keep reading and reviewing.**

**Kindleflame5: She is adding to her count a little quickly, huh? I'm sure she's enjoying it though, so why stop her? I would love to have Rye sexual manhandle him, but it might take away from the story. But I did say that about her finding out his identity, so we'll have to see. So many ideas, but I can only pick one! Thanks for reviewing continuously. I really appreciate. **


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

**AN: Just a heads up here, I deleted a few chapters so I could pull this in another direction. The last chapter was when she went to Wayne Manor and bugged Bruce a bit, before being called out by the Joker. This is pretty short, but I'll have more up soon like always.**

**I was losing my touch, I'm sorry! Sometimes inspiration runs short, and I just go with the first thing out of my mouth. Hope you enjoy this one a bit more. **

Rye moved into the small apartment, wondering why the door was never locked. They were wanted criminals, weren't they? They should probably lock the damned door.

Downstairs was oddly empty, but she could hear footsteps on the next level. She blinked up, slightly worried, a hand in her pocket. She was ready to pull the knife hidden in there when she was ready, but she had a feeling nothing was too wrong at the moment, unless wrong was the Joker being himself. It really wasn't.

Rye jogged up the stairs, eyes on her feet, but paused when she thought she saw blood. She tilted down, sticking her finger in the small puddle, and sniffing it. Yep, it was blood, and a flash of worry bounded over her before she took off up the rest of the stairs, the amount of blood increasing as she did. She had the knife pulled, and kicked open the office door, ready to fight.

The Joker rushed around to look at her, before cackling, and rubbed his stomach gleefully, sucking on his scars, "Think you could be any louder coming up the stairs, Jess?"

She stuck out her tongue at him, and added, "I thought you were bleeding." Doing her absolute best to keep the worry out of her voice.

He sneered at her, before grinning again, and motioning to the center of the room, "Jess, I'd like you to meet Robin. Little bird was snooping around outside."

She finally took in the surroundings of the Joker, and blinked in surprise, "Batman's Robin?" She asked, eyeing the young man in front of her. His yellow cape gave her a headache, and the red suit he had on over the green pants made him look like he was some sort of spoof of male ballerinas. She'd never met him before in person; it was her first time seeing him.

He was tied to a chair; legs spread open, each one respectively tied to the leg of the chair. His arms were tied to the chair as well, meaning he was not escaping any time soon.

"The very same," The Joker grinned, leaning down to pat Robin's cheek affectionately, "The little sidekick."

"He kind of looks like a ballerina." She added, unafraid to let her eyes roam over him, pursing her lips in thought. Robin glared at her.

The Jokers high-pitched glee filled her ears, and he darted his tongue out to lick his scars, his grin wider than normal, "Yours to keep, doll."

She grinned at him, walking up to hold his jaw with her hands, inspecting his face. He shook his head out of it, and maliciously told her, "You aren't going to get away with any of this, clowns."

She slid a hand through his hair, and turned back to the Joker, ignoring Robin, "Can I kill him?"

"Not yet, cupcake." The Joker moved closer to her, grinning sarcastically, "I wanna see if the Batman is going to rescue his little pet here. But play with him all you want, as long as it hurts."

The Joker kissed her lips gently, before moving toward the door, telling her, "Mikey's gonna be here, but the boys and I gotta go out."

"See ya, boss." She mockingly saluted him, and didn't turn to face Robin until she heard the front door shut, "So Robin," She grinned at him, pulling up a chair, and sitting with her legs wide open. She leaned toward him enthusiastically.

"You're going to regret this." He growled at her, once again struggling with his bonds.

She placed her hands on his gently, digging her nails in to make him quit the struggling, "You're going to hurt yourself." She dug her nails in harder, drawing blood. He hissed in pain, but couldn't move away from it. She pulled her hands away, and put her fingers to her mouth, giggling loudly, "Oops! Did I do that? Need me to kiss it and make it better?" She slid her hands up his thighs, tilting her head up to lock her eyes with his.

"Never," Robin spit, it hit directly on her cheek, and she stood abruptly, anger radiating off her. Her moods changed so quickly, Robin was already finding it hard to follow.

"Oh, boy, you keep that up and we're gonna have a real ball." She told him, wiping the spit off onto her palm. She inspected it, and then smacked his right cheek with it as hard as she could. His spit made the sting of the hit ten times worse, and he gasped in shock.

She paused, and stood, finger in the air like she'd just got an idea, "Oh! This is a special occasion! I have to dress for it!" With that, she rushed out of the room.

When she returned, Robin's wrists were bleeding, and she was wearing a gorgeous red and black cocktail dress. Her mask was on, and her lips were freshly painted red. She was barefoot, though, not bothering with the heels. She shut the door into the office behind her, and twirled, "How do I look?"

The dress draped over her shoulders and hips loosely, outlining the essentials that made her as curvy as she was. It was shorter than most of the others, just a few inches from hiding any genitalia from view. It gave her confidence, the mask and the dress making her want to go out a play. Or stay in a play with her new toy.

"Like a crazy," He told her, and she frowned deeply, collapsing onto his lap. She draped her legs over the arm of the chair, and over-exaggerated her sadness.

"But, Robin, baby! I thought we were friends." She whispered into his ear, grinning as she watched goose bumps rise to his neck.

"We'll never be friends." She slid a finger down his chest, sighing sadly.

"I was hoping you wouldn't say that, but a girls gotta do what a girls gotta do." She stood, and walked behind the chair to the desk on the far side of the wall. She opened the top drawer, digging through an assortment of knives and clamps. She grabbed a pair of scissors, and a small knife, humming the whole way.

"I'm not going to tell you anything." She laughed, turning around and moving to slide her blade along the back of his neck.

"Silly Robin," Giggling, she slid the knife around his neck as she walked to face him. She tilted down close to him, knife still at his neck, and kissed his cheek, leaving her signature print, "I don't want you to tell me anything. I just want to play a little."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

**AN: Remember, kiddos, rated M. Non-consensual suggestive scenes, lots of blood, etc. Please don't read if you feel uncomfortable or offended in any way from sensitive topics. **

"You're sick, we could help you." Robin told her through gritted teeth, and she had to smile in amusement. She was still sitting in his lap, absently rubbing the blade of her knife along his neck, a reminder that he was a victim. He was the weak one.

"You sound just like Batman." She mumbled out, lips close to his neck. She could feel him squirm beneath her touches, she could feel how he enjoyed her so close yet still wanted her far away, "Stop struggling, my dear Robin, just give in." Rye's voice was a soft whisper, her sweet breath sliding along his skin. She watched goose-bumps raise there, felt shivers slide up his spine.

"I will never give in to you." He told her, though his voice sounded oddly quiet, weak, fighting against the force she unleashed upon him; her sensuality.

She moved off of him, a coy and mischievous smile on her lips, and a red hint to her cheeks. Robin knew from the way she moved, the way her voice rolled out so effortlessly, that she enjoyed every moment of watching him struggle. Robin felt she was just as fucked-up as the Joker, maybe even worse. He mentally shook his head, and held in a few obscene comments. No, nobody was worse than the Joker, she just evoked a different kind of terror in him. He felt so _helpless_.

He watched as she disappeared from his line of sight, somewhere behind him, and she could see him tense. He'd lost one of his most important senses, that being his sight. He couldn't exactly smell her, and she was quiet as a cat. With out seeing her, he could do nothing, could prepare himself for nothing. That's why he flinched in his bonds when he felt her cut the cape from around his neck. She wasn't careful, there were small lines in his neck. He didn't make any noise from the pain.

"This color of yellow looks terrifyingly gaudy on you, I'm afraid. It'll have to go." She told him, as she tossed the coat behind her. He heard it land on something wooden. She sat, crossed-legged, on the ground in front of him. It didn't matter that she was wearing a dress, she figured he'd be dead soon enough anyways.

"And these boots, Robin, so tasteless!" She told him, just cutting off the laces instead of untying them. She eased off his boots, and then stripped his socks. She patted his feet carefully, and then giggled under her breath, beginning to cut up his right pant leg, "Stupid thick material," She accidentally made a long slice up his leg, which she ignored and he hissed at, "Why is it so thick?"

"Protection," He told her, condescendingly.

In return, she jabbed at his leg, creating another trail of blood, "Don't back-talk me, Robin. I'm not a fan of it." She only cut to the knee off his pants in her patience, and quickly did the other leg.

She dropped the knife on the floor, and got to her knees, hands on his lower thigh. She made sure her bottom was high in the air; her icy eyes never left his. Slowly, she slid her hands up his thighs, biting her lip as she did.

His muscles were tensed horribly, she could tell from the way his veins popped out at his neck, she could see the terror in the way his abdomen flexed through the skin-tight material of his suit. She slid her hands further up his thigh, hovering just neck to the most precious part of a man.

He was watching her hands, waiting, breath coming in short pants. He couldn't do anything, his mouth was his only weapon, and he had found that he had lost the ability to use it at the moment. Rye looked perfect, a picture of innocence, with a smile that said she knew so much more. Her mouth was half-open, creating an oval ruby. She licked her lips, and he had to hold him a groan.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of tension, she slid her hands over the crotch of his pants. She traced her fingers lightly over his length, trailed her nails along the material with a spidery touch. He couldn't hold in his groans, and as soon as he started, she pulled away in a fit of giggles.

She didn't blush like he did, looking at where he was so obviously aroused. She licked her lips again, bit the bottom one a little, and stuck the tip of her tongue between her teeth when she laughed.

"I wonder what you've got hiding on your belt," He jumped when she spoke, he could easily note how her voice had dropped down a few notes, the sultry tone made him close his eyes. He could barely breathe. Her hands didn't tease him like before when undoing his belt, but roughly pulled it open and from around him. Something left scratches on his back, but she didn't care and he didn't notice.

Once more she sat on her bottom, crossing her legs in front of him while she pulled things off his belt. She tossed a few items behind her. He watched his lasso fly, the handcuffs slide along the hardwood, and his zipline. She threw darts, grenades, and multiple other items. He watched her put things next to her, creating a small pile. She had his Taser and night-vision goggles next to her.

Once she had gone through everything, and he had slowly settled down, she slid all the containers off the belt. She dropped the belt in the pile of containers, and picked up her knife again.

"Find anything useful?" He asked her, in spite.

"Quite a few things that will be fun with you, but the boss'll go through them later." Her silky –smooth voice was gone, she was back to normal once more, and she'd lost the red hue to her cheeks.

"Are you going to kill me?"

She laughed, but didn't answer.

She began to cut off his shirt again, which was surprisingly easy than the pants. She ripped most of the seams with a bit of work, and slid it away from him, leaving him bare-chested.

She had to stand back, and admire him for a moment, "Not bad, baby bird." She muttered under her breath, throwing the shirt somewhere behind him. Clad in just his mask, and the cut-off shorts of his pants, Rye figured it was the best he would ever look.

She found herself on his knees again, fingers once more on his thighs, sliding upwards once more until she found the spot that makes him groan. She slowly moved herself up, her eyes never leaving his. Inches from his lips, she could smelt the mint from the toothpaste he'd used, could feel his heat fan onto her face. It didn't take long for him to become aroused again, she even sooner than he.

She tilted up slightly, she that her lips barely touched his. They were breathing each other's air, until he leant his head down just enough to kiss her harder. The added pressure made her move up in return, the wax of her lipstick smeared onto him and messed up on her lips. She moved into his lap, where she could grind herself against him, feeling him harden in pants that she knew were hard to breathe in.

The clatter of her knife to the floor as she laced her fingers into his hair was the only sound besides the gentle smacks of their kiss, besides the deep breathing through their noses. The felt of their masks rubbed together in an odd way, hers just slightly thicker. She liked the kiss, enjoyed it more than she had any other man besides the Joker. The absence of scars was odd, as he took the initiative to sweep his tongue into her mouth.

She started to move away, broke the kiss for air, moved from his lap so she could relax. She shouldn't be doing this, he was an enemy, a vigilante out to kill the only man who'd ever understood her.

Her lips felt numb and swollen, her cheeks were red, and suddenly she felt angry. She picked up the knife, the knight vision goggles, and turned to glare at Robin.

He looked at a loss for words, lipstick smeared along his lips, his eyes following her no longer with fear, but with lust. He leered after her, so she flipped off the lights.

There was no window, the room went pitch-black immediately. She hated the dark, the fact that there was no way to see or protect her. She imagined being tied up in it, with a predator in the room, could make it worse. Chills went up her spine at the momentary flashback of her toxin-induced dream, but she shoved it down. She wasn't being hunted. She wasn't weak. She was feared.

She watched Robin squirm for a minute, watched him slowly turn from aroused to worried. She could see him frantically flip his head around, looking for her, for light.

She opened the door, and shut it behind her. He stopped looking for her, eyes centered on the door. He began to work on his bonds, pulling both wrists and occasionally kicked his legs. She took four steps. He didn't hear her.

She kept moving, all the while listening to his struggling breaths, his panicked gasps.

"Damn… it" He muttered under his breath, still struggling. She moved behind him, and blew a gentle breath along the back of his neck. She moved out of the way before he could lean back and hit her with his head. She still made no noise, "H-Hello?" His voice, tentative, reached out into the darkness. She heard true fear, and reveled in it.

She slid around to his side, bending to drag the knife on the floor. It made a horrible screeching noise, and his head whipped to find it, even though he was lost in the dark. She moved to another part of the room, and did it to his left.

"You fucking bitch," He growled out, struggling harder against rope that hadn't moved an inch. She didn't respond, didn't laugh, just kept sliding the knife on the floor. She watched his frantic movements; an animal caught in an inescapable trap.

"SHOW YOURSELF!" He yelled out, in no particular direction. She couldn't show herself, but she would let him feel her.

She slid the tip of the knife, a hunting knife with the ability to cut a strand of hair, along his arm. He hissed in pain, trying to move. The twisting and pulling of his muscles made the wound sting worse, blood leaked out at a faster rate.

She moved it to a different spot, just below his collar bone, and slid there. A thick line of blood oozed down his chest, over his abs. She followed the trail with her knife, another slice of skin directly down his pectoral and over his abdominals. This time he was louder.

She touched him with the knife, everywhere, in so many spots. Blood stained the floors, his body carved, his face untouched, his skin riddled with lacerations. Some were deep; some were shallow, all of them bled.

She wiped the knife on his pants, and threw it into the wall. It sunk with a thud, a skill she'd perfected with the Joker. Robin was semi-conscious, she could hear his labored breaths, she knew he was lightheaded, suffering.

She had recreated her nightmare on another being, and she wasn't sure how she felt about it. After a while, the inflicted pain had stopped feeling good and was replaced with a cold numbness in the back of her mind. She leant down, to do one last thing before she left the room.

She dirtied his cheek with her lips.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

**AN: I can't even begin to express how sorry I am for how extremely long this took me. Finals, on top of the Christmas Season, has me very depressed and lacking inspiration on getting out of bed, much less writing! It's not an excuse, but I do hope you'll forgive me. Maybe? **

**Also this chapter is short, and the next chapter will probably be dedicated to a day in the life of our least favorite playboy Bruce Wayne, the batso, if you all would be interested in something like that. It would basically be his search for Robin, and an encounter with Jester from his point of view. You let me know.**

**The Joker might be just a little OOC in this chapter, but I've always thought he was never COMPLETELY giggles and jokes. There are a lot of layers to his character, his sweetness is so thin some of you might miss it. So here you are, some plain ole' Joker lovin'. **

Rye had a problem for the rest of the night, because she seemed to have suddenly developed some sort of conscious (nasty little things, as the Joker would say) and was having problems thinking properly without guilt smashing her insides to pieces.

When she first left the room, she felt so satisfied, like she had done something right for once, like she was exactly where she should be. The Joker had inspected, and commended her for her 'artwork'. He had a camera stashed away and watched the whole thing, on their tiny little TV, and laughed over the different emotions that his face would express. Once fear, next lust, and even Rye thought this was lovely. She could evoke those feelings inside others, feelings that often bubbled up inside herself.

"The faults of men is the desire for chaos, but the denial of it," Joker had told her, licking and sucking at his iconic scars.

She liked chaos, she knew she did. She wouldn't get that familiar warmth between her legs when it happened if she detested the sweetness of chaos. Was hurting others chaos? Was killing chaos? Her mind reeled over and over.

The Joker had gone to sleep hours ago after lovemaking that once again left her with bruises that would bring favorable memories over the next days, but she stayed awake by his side, eyes glued to that little spot of peeled paint on the ceiling that faintly remind her of a hamburger.

What was Robin thinking in the other room, covered in scars and blood and lipstick? Was he cold? She was cold right now, so he was probably cold. Did he have a family? She had to think about that one, since she hadn't taken off his mask nor had she seen any wedding ring. Perhaps he was a single father?

Rye shuddered and stood, retreating away from the Joker's snores and into the darkness of the upstairs hallway. She leaned against the wall, and brushed her hair behind her ears, wiping at her eyes before any tears could fall. She would never cry over an enemy. She was not _weak._

But why, oh why, did she feel so weak right now?

She slid down the wall, her bottom hitting the floor with a light thump, and her knees curling to her chest. She was a monster. She was evil. She'd done unspeakable things, horrible things.

She was a monster. She was evil. She was… she was… UGH. She couldn't even think of a word for her wrong doings. She wasn't meant for this life, but she would never want to leave it.

Tears slid down her cheeks, invisible except for the sobbing that accompanied the streaks of guilt. She felt so conflicted.

She hadn't even noticed anybody in the hallway with her, so when they picked her up, she stiffened and tried to get back down.

"Hey, stop that." The Joker's voice soothed in her ear, and she sniffed lightly, his fingers curling around her thigh and torso. She took deep breaths, her heart felt like it was shattered, and his arms felt like glue.

He held her close to his chest, both of them still nude from their previous hours, and led her back through their bedroom door. Her sobs hadn't stilled, her eyes almost refused to open, and the tears fell even with her lids closed. Rye wasn't fully aware of her surroundings, only aware of the warmth that had begun to encompass her.

She cried into his chest, tears lost in the hair that covered his strong torso, worries lost from her mind and into his. Her breath slowed as her held her, her sobs turned into gentle hiccups, and neither of them spoke a single word.

Only when he turned to lay her back onto the bed did she open her eyes, locking onto those of the angel she had known when she woke from her toxin nightmare. They were surprisingly filled with concern, and when he noticed her watching him, he let out a large smile.

She hiccupped, and with a breathless voice mumbled, "S-sorry for waking you up."

He laughed under his breath, and kissed her forehead gently, and she closed her eyes. Absently she felt the blanket cover her, and the weight of another lying next to her, but she was asleep almost as soon as she had closed her eyes.

She dreamt of scars and kisses that night.


	20. Chapter 20

AN: I haven't abandoned you, I swear. I'm sorry it's taken me so long. I have no excuses for the length of time it took me. :(  
I finally got the kick in the ass and started writing when I was listening to "Smarty" by Lana Del Rey. Loved the song, looked up the meaning, it was about an abusive relationship. You can thank that for me finally updating.  
I'm dragging this story into the plot of The Dark Knight Rises. Let's pretend Batman never became a recluse and spent those 8 years fighting with the Joker, instead of hiding. Ryanna only came in towards the time Bane was gathering himself in the sewers of Gotham, and creating his elaborate network of criminal strength.  
I hope you enjoy.  
Chapter 20  
"Look, Baney, I get you wanna throw this place into chaos," The Joker stopped to lick his scars, a smacking sounding Rye had become used to in the short time they'd been lovers, "I do too, but you're taking my men, and I need them!"  
"It is not my fault that you give unfair payment to those under your control, Joker." Rye got goosebumps at the cold metallic voice, which seemed to always have that joyful lilt. This is the first time she'd met him, hell, it was the first time she'd ever been in a sewer, but she definitely didn't like him. He didn't seem to care though, he barely gave her a glance, which was frustrating since she was in her classic black dress and mask. She thought she looked beautiful.  
The Joker crossed his arms, dwarfed by Bane, and inspected some of his nails, "They're scum, they don't deserve to be paid well." One of the many men that had been in and out of the open area scoffed, and Rye turned to shoot a glare in his direction. None of them met her icey blue eyes.  
"If you do not build a strong empire, Joker, you will fall." The Joker just rubbed his temples with one hand, and sighed, annoyed.  
"I'm not building an empire, Bane." His voice was filled with the sickening anger that sent chills up her spine.  
Bane laughed, but before he could speak again, the only female interupted the conversation, "Boys, can we just settle this problem easily? You both want the same thing for Gotham, do you not? Then stop banging your chests like apes, and work together."  
Both the men were silent, and the Joker shot her a look at her insult, but she would be fine. He hadn't hit her before, so she wasn't afraid.  
"I think," Bane took a deep breath, "Your rebel here is correct." He sounded thoughtful, amused, even though she couldn't see the expressions through the large metallic mask.  
"I don't want to work with anybody," The Joker growled under his breath, mostly talking to himself, "But for chaos, I can do it."  
Rye didn't think he was going to stick with any plan, and somehow she thought Bane knew that too. Was he... underestimating the Joker?  
"I would watch who you disparage, Bane. An empire can be flipped if you underestimate those around you."  
"You're clever, Miss Swift." Bane told her, once more amused.  
"Thank you," She told him, with a grace she was unaware she held. The Joker watched this exchange with close eyes, the way she and Bane held each other at arms distance, how she seemed to curl her lips with some sort of satisfied smile.  
"She's mine." The Joker cut in with anger, seething through his lips, his mood tonight wasn't the best.  
Bane merely laughed, mechanically, and told,"I already belong to another, Joker, I do not want yours."  
"Then we'll just make our exit," He gripped Rye's upper arm, and pulled her out.  
As they left through one of the many tunnels, Bane called after them, "I'll be here, waiting."  
Waiting for what, she wasn't sure, but she was sure the Joker was applying an uncomfortable amount of pressure to her arm.  
"Let go of me, I can walk on my own." He only tightened his group, and she yanked her arm from his grip.  
When he turned to face her, she had to take a step back at the pure anger in his expression, "I own you, don't you dare do that to me."  
She wasn't she whether to be angry, or scared. The tunnel wall was at her back, and she was afraid of being hurt. She already knows when he's angry he just does things on impulse, he won't hesitate. She kept quiet, palms pressed flat against the wall.  
"I made you, I can do whatever I want with you," His hands had found their way around her neck. She could breathe easily still, but there was pressure. He was so close to her, she could see even the most microscopic smears in his facepaint.  
She couldn't respond, couldn't open her mouth. Fear wasn't keeping her mouth shut, or keeping her pinned to the wall by him. She knew she wasn't his, and she never would be. She would never belond to somebody else, she was hers and hers alone. But damn did it make her feel hot just thinking about it.  
She was sure he had an assortment of knives on him, and she supposed he would have usually taken one out, but this was her and she wasn't a victim. She was property, so he thought. And who burns down their own crops? Not the Joker. He tends to their needs, cares for them, urges them in the direction he wants them to go. She didn't mind, not now, because nobody was going to change her. She was independent.  
So instead of dealing with his burning anger, and hoping he wouldn't react with anger, she kissed him. She kept her hands pinned to the wall, and her lips pressed against his.  
"I'm not just a man, Jess," He used her nickname, "I'm not sombody you can play around with." She stayed pinned to the wall, biting her bottom lip, and squirmed lightly under his touch. It was really the squirming that got him, the motion that rubbed her hips lightly against him, and moved her chest along his.  
He wanted her, she could feel the desire growing, not just physically but in the air around them. So instead of kissing him again, he kissed her, and to assert his dominace pinned her wrists above her head with a single hand. She wouldn't have fought him even if he wanted her to.  
His second hand snaked in between them, facepaint smudged onto her face, an even more contorted grin made with the second-hand red and white colors. His palm rubbed her through the outside of the panties pushing up the dress to her hips. She wanted to put her hands all over him, and went to do so, but found that the Joker was a lot stronger than he looked.  
She moaned his name, and tugged on his hold, which made him stop the rubbing. She groaned, and leaned her head against the wall, opening her mouth to plead only to be met with his fingers. Three of his fingers in her mouth at once, forcing her to be quiet, and his knee took the place where his hand was.  
Just as he was about to release her hands to undo his belt, somebody hit him soundly in the head, making him drop to the ground in laughter.  
Rye had to take a moment to gather herself, and to open her eyes, breathe still ragged. When she felt a hand on her shoulder, she opened her eyes to some bitch with cat ears.  
"Are you okay?" A concerned look was on her face, and Rye didn't feel anything but annoyance.  
Rye, filled with anger, pushed her back by pressing her hands solidly on her chest and shoving. The woman had to take two steps back, and almost dropped and envelope she was holding cautiously in her hands.  
"Angry? I was only trying to help," She took a step back as Rye took one forward.  
"Damn it, why does everybody intterupt good things?"  
The Joker, upon realization, grabbed his stomach and rolled over onto his back, and barely made through his giggles, "People in animal costumes have a thing for intterupting us, huh Jess'?"  
"What are you looking at? Get out of here, kitten! We're BUSY." The woman frowning deeply and looking angry, turned and continued her walk down the hall, heels clicking on the floor, "Who the fuck was she?"  
The Joker, wiping away tears of laughter and moving to his feet again, brushed off his suit and shrugged, "Probably some girl getting in over her head."  
Rye tugged lightly on his tie, pulling him closer, and her voice hushed, "Does that mean we get to continue you, now?" The Joker grinned, and kissed her forehead.  
"Look, sweetcheeks, I know you love me but I have things to do." He waved his hands dramatically towards the surface, and mumbled, "And you have to take care of Batty's pet bird."  
Rye sighed, and turned slightly, "I don't know what to do with him."  
The Joker rolled his shoulders a little, and laughed lightly, "As long as he's not dead, it's fine. He's yours to play with." He began walking past her, but stopped and whispered in her ear, "We don't cry over our enemies, Ryanna."  
She blew a piece of hair out of her face, and began to walk a few feet behind him, up to the surface, where she knew she'd have to deal with Robin and Batman, and all the other troubles that were swirling around in her head. Great.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

**AN: Sorry about the difficult formatting last chapter, and all the errors. I had to type it out on notepad, since I was on a computer that didn't have word. Hope you enjoy this one. **

The room smelt like copper and sweat, the scent filled her nose distastefully, and made her eyes water on first contact. The air in the room felt heavy, and hot, even though it was raining outside. Rye took off her mask, and heels, setting down the basin of water and the rags next to Robin.

He was in horrible condition. She was unaware anybody could bleed so much and still be alive, much less have their eyes open with hate and disobedience.

She jumped when he spoke, his voice loud but weak, "Come to cut me up more?" She sighed, and moved from where he sat in the chair, picking up the articles of clothing she had discarded, and kicking all the gadgets from his belt she hadn't wanted into the same pile.

She didn't speak for a few moments, until she sat on her knees in front of him, where she found goose-bumps on all his exposed skin. There was a lot of it, since he sat in boxers that had bloodstains and holes, "No, I think I'm done with the knife for now." She paused, dipping the rag into warm water, and sighed lightly, "Unless you make me need to get it out again, but I don't think I'll need to. I'm sure you understand by now that there isn't going to be much mercy from me."

"So cleaning the wounds you inflicted isn't mercy?" He countered, and she squeezed out the water onto his legs, where it seeped into his wounds and made him hiss.

"No, not really, it's more of the fact that I need to keep you alive for the Joker."

"And crying?"

Her heart stopped for a moment, and she couldn't meet his eyes. She started with the cuts lowest on his leg, working up, eyeing for anything that might be stuck in the wounds or anything that might already be infected, "I don't know what you're talking about." She held in a second sigh, screaming at herself internally. Of course she did, and he knew she was lying, she had cried right outside of his door.

"You do, unless you've got some sort of mental disorder. Split personality or something, but I don't think you do. You're guilty." She brushed her hair behind her ears, letting the rag soak, tilting her head to look up at him.

She shrugged in response, too afraid that speaking would give away everything. She had to admit the shrug was more of a 'yes' shrug than a 'I don't care' shrug.

"Ryanna-" She cut him off with a well-aimed jab of her fingers into a cut.

"Didn't I tell you not to call me that? Oh wait, no. I told Bruce that, or Batman. Whichever you call him in your free time."

It took Robin time to take in the information. Ryanna knew who Batman was. Did that mean she knew who he was? Did the Joker know? Did Bruce know? He had so many questions, so many worries, but not one of them could come to his tongue. He couldn't seem to get over the shock, or the fact that she had so much control over both of them now. If she played her cards right, the entire city.

"Oh, don't worry your poor little head. I haven't told anybody, besides the old butler and Bruce. It was really easy. Want to know how I figured it out?" She paused, cleaning a deep cut on his thigh. He was lucky she hadn't hit the major artery located inches away, "Really easy, actually. I met Batman first, when I stabbed him in the shoulder with that dreadful shard of glass. I got a scar from it actually, look," She showed him the twin lines on the furthest edge of her palm, "I had a nice, deep stare into his eyes. Wonderful eyes, actually. Very pretty." She rinsed the rag again, the water in the basin was now a light red.

Sighing, she continued, "Then there was that benefit ball, banquet, masquerade, whatever you want to call it. He approached me, that was when my mask was still unknown, before Gotham made it my unofficial symbol. We danced, and talked, and danced some more. Both of us admitted the other was strikingly familiar. I pretended to be French, and he was a fool who fell for it. Did you know he speaks French? I must admit that was a surprise." She began to cleanse the wounds on his abdomen, and chest, both well-toned, "Well, later I revealed my identity to the crowd. You know that story, I'm sure you do. He almost fought back. I could feel it in his muscles, in the way they tensed and how he calculated everything with his eyes. That's when I began to wonder. So I went out and killed some on my own, waited for him to find me, and looked into his eyes to discover the truth."

"You're unnaturally smart for a kid." He told her, and she scoffed.

"Kid, Robin? I'd wager you're just about four years older than me. Maybe five." She was right, he knew, but there was something about her. She couldn't be evil, not in the way the Joker was, could she? She was so smart, in a different way than Scarecrow, who was merely educated in comparison. Education and intelligence were two separate things. Who was it that had originally said that quote? He couldn't remember, but he was sure that she had both.

"I have more experience." He told her, and she rolled her eyes.

"You've only been Robin for a year and a half. More than me, yes, but still not enough  
to call you an _experienced _vigilante."

"I've been Robin my whole life," He began, but she burst into giggles, dipping the rag into the basin. She needed new water.

"Oh, please. I suppose you'll say you were destined for this life? To be overshadowed by the rich kid dressed as a bat? Destiny is bullshit, as is fate, and any other-worldly interference the religious freaks try to sell you. You make your own fucking decisions, not God or Sheba, or whatever idol you worship. Things aren't always your fault, but that of others, but your decisions led you there. I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to. I might be dead, or living in Maine or whatever place I decided to run to in order to hide from Gotham and the villainous citizens that inhabit it."

She stood, dropping the rag in the basin and left the room to get more water. She came back with a bowl of fruit and a water bottle as well, changed into a flannel and boyshorts instead of her dress.

Robin watched her stick a straw in the bottle of water, and took a deep breath before sucking down at least half of it. She held the bottle for him, setting it down when he was finished.

"I'll feed you when I'm done cleaning your arms." She said quietly, using a clean rag and water, before wrapping the worst of his wounds in gauze. The entire process was silent now, both of them quietly contemplating the other and their motives, the things that make them tick. Rye's mind wandered off to Batman, who she was certain would do anything he could to get Robin in a safe place.

"Thank you." His voice sounded better now that he had something to drink. After a few more silent minutes, she wheeled an office chair over to in front of him. Crossing her legs she smiled.

"Are you allergic to any fruit?" She asked, using a fork to dig around in the salad.

"Nope." He told her, taking pieces of the fruit gratefully, chewing hungrily.

"Lucky you, I'm allergic to tropical things. Pineapple, banana, mango, and all that. Gives me hives."

He didn't have much room to speak, his mouth was stuffed with food at this point, but she didn't mind the silence, which was occasionally cut into with his smacking.

Robin finished the food quickly, to which she stood and grabbed the basin and rag, sighing a little, "One of the boys will be up here to take you to the bathroom, and put you in some sweats or something. I can nurse, but not like that." She said quietly, moving to the door.

He nodded, and she left the room with a sigh, marching down to the kitchen quietly, the last step squeaking loudly as always.

She rinsed the rag, and began to do the dishes, humming to the tune of Piano Man under her breath. Joker was out, nobody was here besides her and Robin. She was beginning to find that the Joker didn't want her involved in most of his plans, which was really frustrating. It was like he didn't trust her. Some part of her told her that the Joker didn't trust anybody but himself. She sighed, and gazed at the peeling wallpaper in front of her.

He was smart for that, especially with not trusting her, because the thoughts running through her mind at the moment were anything but helpful to her side.

Her side. Joker's side? She couldn't quite call it that, because she didn't run on the same morals as he. She didn't want what he wanted. What did she want? A husband who comes home with flowers every day? Her nose wrinkled at the thought of that romantic mush, because that wasn't her. She didn't want that.

But did she want to work for the Joker for the rest of her life? It was guaranteed to be a short life if she stayed in living situations like this. Day to day running, getting herself tangled up with men who would never think twice about squashing her. Joker wouldn't care if she died, which hurt to think about and made her heart squeeze with pain, but it was the truth. Her father would care, even though she had been all but disowned from him since she had gone on these escapades with the Joker. She didn't have friends, unless you counted the people she tutored, which she didn't because they laughed at her behind her back. Teachers wouldn't care. The men might care, one or two of them, but they would get over it. That's part of their life, they're accustomed to change. Nothing is constant in the world of criminals, except for death and money. Robin? She wouldn't get her hopes up. Batman?

She had to pause, standing on one hip suddenly, her eyes watering up slightly. She had tried to kill him, but he had done his best not to hurt her in return. He would care, but that shouldn't mean she should care about him in return.

It didn't matter what her head told her, she cared. She cared about Robin, the Joker, Batman, Mikey, her father, her ex-bullies, all of them. Every last person on this earth, even those she'd killed. She cared, but she wasn't exactly sympathetic. Did that make her evil? She'd still pop a couple of bucks to the homeless man on the corner, so she couldn't be completely evil.

People were too complicated, she thought. She really couldn't understand herself, much less the Joker, even simpletons like her father. One minute the look in their eyes is nothing but hate, the next moment filled with compassion, and grief for fallen enemies.

With a sigh, she put the last plate in the drying rack, and rubbed her temples.

"Ugh, I need a glass of wine."


	22. Chapter 22

Rye tied the soft black ribbons of her mask around her cheeks, tucking her hair behind her ears and bending down to fix the buckle on her right heel a little bit tighter. She was humming softly under her breath, thinking about how strange it was for Joker to send her on errands.

Well, technically they aren't errands, teasing Batman the same way she teased Robin couldn't be considered an errand, could it? A Joker errand, she supposed.

She heard the creak of the second-to-last step on the staircase and turned to spot Joker, and his hyena's grin.

"How's the dress, sweet?" She asked, twirling with a small sway of her hips, running her fingers over the silky fabric. The neckline dipped low, and the dress casually rested on her hips, giving her a larger hourglass figure than she actually had.

"Perfect, my little jester. But you're a bit late, it's already dark." He motioned for the door, and she frowned lightly.

"You're the one who told me about this five minutes ago.." She muttered, but instantly regretted it.

"Are you mumbling at me? Huh, Ryanna? Didn't I tell you to STOP THAT?" Her eyes closed lightly and she waited to be hit, flinching when he lovingly stroked her face instead, "No, no. I can't punish you now. You've got to go find the Batman and tell him we have what he wants." He laughed, and pushed her out the door, "AND DON'T COME BACK UNLESS YOU DO."

She flinched again as he slammed the door in her face, and growled under her breath, "Moodier than a teenaged girl."

She unlocked the van, hopping in and not hesitating to slam on the gas. The best thing about being an uncatchable villain is that she didn't have to obey any traffic laws. She sped through the streets, almost hitting cars, people, even a cat. She didn't care. They all got out of her way fast enough. Instead she just drove herself into the darkest part of the Narrows, right out by the docks. She slammed the car door and danced, humming under her breath.

There was a full moon out tonight on the water, illuminating the whole of the docks in an eerie glow.

"Batman! Batman! Batman!" She hummed out loud, yelling, twirling to an imaginary slow dance, "I hear you want to talk."

She jumped as a thump landed behind her, and turned with a frown, "You know, you'd think you could have a little more courtesy with showing up to these things. First you make me call for you, and then you nearly scare me to-"

She was cut off by a hand around her throat, air escaping her lips completely. Rye was held up against a wall, her fingers clawing desperately at Batman's hand.

"WHERE IS ROBIN?" He dropped her to the ground, opting for the motion that would let her speak and instead pulling her to her feet by her hair, "WHERE IS HE, RYANNA?" His voice was intense, growling, "His life is not a game, he's young. He's a kid. If he's dead, you'll regret it."

"He's not dead." She hissed at him, aiming a kick to his chest, pushing him back and away from her, combing her fingers through her hair as he caught his balance, "He's safely holed up in a nice little spot. He might be a little cold, since he isn't exactly clothed completely, but he's fine. At least now he is."

"What do you mean now?" Batman's fists clenched, and she reached for one of his hands. He let her take it, surprisingly. She was unarmed, obviously, she couldn't do much harm.

Tracing her fingers down his palm, she slid his hand to cup her cheek gently, "I don't want to talk about it. I wasn't informed on whether I should tell you or not, and if I let anything slip then I get the beating, not you."

"Why are you with him?" He asked, shaking his head in disgust, his eyes nothing but confusion.

"I'm not really sure, I just know that a little chaos is what I want right now. Maybe tomorrow I'll want to be on your side, or that fucking Cat's. Who is she, by the way? She was dressed up with little ears like you." Rye flicked one of his ears.

"What? Where did you meet her?" He seemed shocked, actually shocked for a moment.

"Under the city, where scum like her should be forced to stay." Rye let go of Batman's hand, and he slid it down her side, resting it on her hip.

"Why were you under the city?"

"Why do you ask so many questions?" She retorted, running her fingers up his armor and around his neck. She kissed his jaw gently, a small smile, "Maybe I'll give Robin back to you."

"Just tell me where he is, Joker won't have to know." Batman told her.

She sighed a little, and rolled her eyes, kissing further up to his lips, "I'll tell you if you kiss me."

"I don't trust you." He mumbled, leaning down closer to her.

"Mhm, that goes both ways, Batsy." She pressed her lips into his, which tasted like some sort of fruity wine. She dipped her head up further, closer to him, and he pressed her back against the wall with his hips.

He kissed her softly, his hands roaming her sides, one venturing below on her back to grasp her bottom. Their tongues danced together, and he moved politely, sweetly.

She pushed him back, gasping for breath, "You have to hit me."

"What?" He gasped, looking ridiculous with lipstick smeared across his face and his cowl somehow tilted.

"Well I have to come home convincing, don't I? Hit me."

"I'm not going to hit you." She swung a punch at his face, but he didn't capture her arm in time. It connected with his jaw, and before he had the chance to recover, she swung a foot at one of his knees, "Come on, hit me." He grabbed one her hands, shoving her against the wall and backhanding her with such force that she fell to her knees.

She cupped her cheek and smiled a little, "8945 Martin Luther Way. When you visit try not to break anything. He's upstairs in the room to the right." Blood was coming from her nose and her right eye was watering like crazy, "See ya around, Bruce."


End file.
